Darkness Visible
by plutoplex
Summary: AU after GoF. Trelawney makes a new prophecy about a mysterious Half-Blood Prince, and Dumbledore struggles to find out who it's about. Already walking a tightrope between two masters, Severus Snape feigns ignorance while making his own plans.
1. Chapter 1

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 _Yonder see the morning blink:_

 _The sun is up, and up must I,_

 _To wash and dress and eat and drink_

 _And look at things and talk and think_

 _And work, and God knows why._

 _Oh often have I washed and dressed_

 _And what's to show for all my pain?_

 _Let me lie abed and rest:_

 _Ten thousand times I've done my best_

 _And all's to do again._

\- A.E. Housman

 **Chapter 1**

"Ah, Severus, won't you have a seat?" Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he surveyed his potions master, who stood stiffly in front of his desk, holding a parchment tightly in one hand.

"Thank you, no. I have come to tender my resignation." At this, Snape handed Dumbledore the parchment.

Dumbledore sighed, although his eyes continued to sparkle in suppressed amusement. "My boy, you do this every year. I suspect that you are simply going through the motions at this point." Snape snorted. "And," he continued, "I'm afraid that it would be quite impossible to replace you, especially given Lord Voldemort's return. You were assigned to spy on me, after all. He would be most displeased to see you abandon your post."

"That is easily remedied, as you well know! I could remain as the school brewer, while spending my extra time researching Cruciatus relief, or a cure for lycanthropy, or any of a dozen other things. I'm the first in almost two centuries who's had to teach and stock the hospital wing, and the last person to do so only had to do so for a year!"

"If you feeling overwhelmed, my boy, then by all means, you can give your brewing duties to someone else."

"I am fully capable of _brewing_. I object to teaching useless dunderheads! You are wasting –"

Dumbledore raised a hand, no longer amused. "Enough. I refuse to accept your resignation. I will expect you to send Minerva next year's syllabus in two weeks so that she can prepare the book list."

He handed Snape's resignation back to him. Snape snarled, and then strode angrily to the office door. As he threw it open, he glanced back at Dumbledore and said, voice soft but tight with anger, "Your mismanagement of resources nearly cost you the first war, old man. You should have learnt from your mistakes."

-DVDVDV-

Minerva McGonagall was already having a bad day when she ran – almost literally – into Sybill Trelawney. The students had left for the summer holidays, but she had a number of housekeeping tasks on her plate to ensure that Hogwarts continued to run smoothly. For the first time in almost 15 years ( _Since the war_ , she thought sadly), Dumbledore was too busy to handle many of his end-of-term duties and had instead delegated them to her. After several hours, she had finally finished updating the wards protecting the merfolk from the Giant Squid, and she was on her way to her kitchens to beg a well-earned cup of tea from the house elves.

 _I deserve something after all that swimming,_ she thought. _Cats – even animagus cats – do not appreciate immersion_.

Just as she was reaching out to tickle the pear in the portrait leading to the kitchens, it swung open. Trelawney nearly tumbled into Minerva before righting herself.

"Ah, Minerva, I was warned that my solitude in the kitchens would soon be interrupted," she said in her normal ethereal tones.

Minerva pursed her lips. "And yet you still neatly toppled over upon my arrival. Remarkable."

"Alas, the stresses of the inner eye can affect even the most well-coordinated of us when a vision strikes."

"You don't say."

"And it can be a terrible burden. To know the future, yet be helpless to change your fate. I simply hope that my warning let that that poor, poor Diggory boy prepare himself for the inevitable."

Minerva's rage and grief exploded. "How dare you! Leave Mr. Diggory out of your – your – pretenses!"

Trelawney glared at Minerva and snapped, her voice losing some of its etherealness, "Just because you fail –" Her voice suddenly changed midsentence, becoming deep and harsh, as though it came from someone else.

 _The choice of the half-blood prince will determine the course of the war. Desired by the Dark Lord, ignored by the greater good, their trust will be paid in kind._ _The choice of the half-blood prince will determine the course of the war._

"– to rise above the mundane, does not mean that we all do!" Trelawney finished, restored to her normal voice.

Minerva was shocked. _Was that a true prophecy?_ She'd normally reject the idea out of hand, but... _According to Albus, You-Know-Who believed in them, and Albus_ did _tell the Order to increase security at the Department of Mysteries..._

"What did you say, Sybill?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Trelawney looked slightly smug that Minerva had taken her admonition to heart "I said that, despite your lamentable grounding in the mundane, some of us are able to ascend to the spiritual plane and are able to see –"

"Yes, that's what I thought," said Minerva, turning back from the entrance to the kitchens and walking briskly to the headmaster's office, while thinking, _She doesn't remember. Her lies are never_ that _convincing. I need to see Albus_.

"Sugar quills," she told the gargoyle. It leapt aside, and she quickly ascended the spiral staircase. Before she reached to the griffin knocker, the door swung open. _Twice in only a few minutes,_ she thought.

Severus Snape stood before the now open door, his expression murderous as he glanced back at Dumbledore. _Not that the expression was at all unusual for him_.

"Your mismanagement of resources nearly cost you the first war, old man. You should have learnt from your mistakes," he said, voice low. His fist curled around a parchment in his hand. For a moment, Minerva thought that he would throw it to the floor. Instead, he visibly calmed himself and stood aside to let her through. Nodding once in her direction, he swooped out of the room like the overgrown bat students so often accused him of being. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Should I even ask what that was about?" Minerva said.

"Just his annual request about his teaching post. I'm certain he'll be back to his usual good humor soon."

Minerva snorted softly. "Denied him the Defense position again?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "He is an exceptional Potions professor. It would be such a shame to lose him. But surely you didn't come here for that?"

"Indeed not. I ran into Sybill earlier and I am concerned by what she said. I think . . . I think she may have made a true prophecy."

Dumbledore's demeanor became instantly grave. "From you, that is a very serious statement. Can you show me?" He gestured to his pensieve.

Minerva nodded, and used her wand to extract a shining silver strand and deposit it in the waiting pensieve. Dumbledore entered it, and then returned a few moments later, looking contemplative. From his perch, Fawkes seemed to sense his master's concern. He trilled softly.

Dumbledore went over and absently patted Fawkes's head. A few feathers fell out; the normally vibrant phoenix was nearing his burning day. "I agree with your assessment. That was almost certainly a true prophecy. Her third, unless I am much mistaken. You were absolutely correct to bring this to me."

Her suspicions confirmed, Minerva's knees trembled.

"Albus, do you know to whom the prophecy refers?"

"Alas, Minerva, I do not."

To Minerva, hearing Albus Dumbledore admit ignorance was normally a comforting reminder that even the most powerful of wizards are still human. Today, though, it only underscored her own anxiety.

"Given his prejudices, there are very few half-bloods that Voldemort would seek to actively recruit, especially ones whom Grindlewald apparently ignored."

"Grindlewald?" Minerva asked, skeptical. It was true that "the greater good" had been the former dark lord's motto, but she had rather thought that phrase in the prophecy referred to Albus himself.

"'The Greater Good' was his motto, if you recall."

"Hmmm." Non-committal.

"I take it you disagree?"

"I've known someone else to use that phrase fairly often."

"Ah. Well, perhaps you are right. If so, then I am truly at a loss. Do you know a half-blood prince I've been ignoring lately?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled.

Minerva did not.

"Very well. I shall have to ask Severus to let me know if Voldemort seems eager to recruit a particular half-blood." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore summoned his silvery patronus. It looked at him briefly before rushing out of the office. "I would ask you to please refrain from mentioning the particulars of Sybill's prophecy to anyone else, including him. It could be dangerous if any hint of this reaches Voldemort."

Minerva nodded. "Of course."

"In the meantime, can I offer you a cup of tea?"

When Snape knocked on the door of the office several minutes later, Minerva was nursing her much needed cup of tea.

"Ah, Severus, thank you for coming. Sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore offered.

Snape glared. "Skip the pleasantries. What do you want that you couldn't say twenty minutes ago? Or have you finally changed your mind?"

"No, I still believe you are best suited teaching potions. Rather, some new information has come to the Order's attention, and I have a few questions that you might be able to help with. Please, take a seat."

Glancing briefly at Minerva, Snape scowled and sat in the chair to her left.

"Has Voldemort mentioned anyone who might be termed a 'half-blood prince?'?"

There was silence for a long minute. When Snape finally spoke, his voice was quiet, subdued. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm afraid I cannot reveal the particulars, but I have it on excellent authority that this person will be crucial to enlist in the war effort. Or, at the very least, to prevent from falling into Voldemort's camp," Dumbledore replied.

Snape's expression flickered briefly in anger before falling into an emotionless mask.

"And who might this 'excellent authority' be?" Snape's eyes flicked from Dumbledore to Minerva as he spoke.

"Alas, I fear I must keep their identity under the strictest confidence. But I assure you, my boy, that the information can be trusted."

Snape fell silent again. When he finally spoke, it was in slow, measured thoughts. "The Dark Lord rarely takes an interest in half-bloods, although there are, obviously, exceptions to that rule. Those who, like Potter," he almost spat the name, "oppose him and yet live. Given the brat's status in our world, and his presumed wealth, he could be deemed a 'prince.'"

Dumbledore considered this only briefly. "No, I do not believe that Harry is the one meant. Are there any others you can think of?"

"While knowing nothing of the context?" Snape's tone was bitter. "No, headmaster, there are no others. Perhaps, should you ever see fit to trust me, I can be of more use." He stood. "If there is nothing else?"

Dumbledore stared at Snape for several long minutes. As the silence stretched, Minerva felt horribly awkward. The two men seemed to have forgotten she was in the room. The headmaster was clearly using legilimancy on his spy, and she did not want to sit here, watching as he violated Snape's mind. She acknowledged it as a necessity in the beginning, during the first war, before the man's loyalties had been proven. But now? Did Dumbledore no longer trust his spy?

Minerva reminded herself that this was not Severus her temperamental colleague. No, this was Snape the spy, the master occlumens who could lie to You-Know-Who himself.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Dumbledore broke the contact.

"Satisfied? Or would you care to try again? I am certain that there are _some_ depths of my soul that you have not yet plumbed." Snape practically hissed the words.

Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "I am truly sorry, my boy, but I had to be certain. I trust you will keep me informed if you do learn anything?"

Snape sneered, and then stormed out of the office. Once he had left, Minerva raised an eyebrow and asked Dumbledore, condemnation leaking into her voice, "Was that truly necessary?"

The headmaster sighed. "Perhaps not. Severus was telling the truth. He has no more idea about our mysterious prince than we do."


	2. Chapter 2

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 2**

For the second time in an hour, Severus fumed as he made his way back from the headmaster's office to the dungeons. The old meddler was clearly hiding something important. _How had he heard about the Half-Blood Prince? Why would he even care?_ _I haven't thought about that ridiculous name in years._ _And what was that absurd idea about enlisting me?_ _I am bloody well already enlisted!_ _And why the hell was Minerva there?_

There were no students in the halls for him to unleash his foul mood on, and the few ghosts floating through the corridors quickly decided to go elsewhere. Nothing could physically hurt them anymore, but they had all felt the effects of his scathing tongue enough to know when to leave him alone. As such, Severus's temper was barely abated by the time he finally returned to his office.

It was not improved when he saw his desk. A magnificent phoenix perched on a neat stack of papers, trilling happily when it saw him enter the room.

"Congratulations. I had thought that my day had already been completed ruined, but you have proven me wrong yet again. There is always a deeper circle of hell."

 _"_ _You were summoned?"_ His words bypassed physical hearing and appeared directly in Severus's mind.

"No, I have been spared that particular delight thus far. However, it is still early enough in the day that I cannot rule it out."

 _"_ _So it was the phoenix-bonded who has you so upset. What has he done this time?"_ The phoenix's "voice" sounded both amused and indignant on Severus's behalf.

"If I ignore you, will you go away?"

The phoenix did not respond. Severus walked over to the far wall. It was lined with shelves containing jars filled with gruesome potions ingredients.

"Suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."

One of the shelves moved to the left, revealing an ornate wooden door behind it.

"Sinon." There was a tiny _click_. Severus opened the door and walked inside to a large, cluttered sitting room. The phoenix followed him.

 _"_ _You should clean."_ Severus ignored him, deftly navigating through the piles of books and notes that filled the room. _"_ _At least call a house elf."_

Severus opened a small cabinet. Inside were dozens of tiny potions vials. He selected one, uncorked it, and drank it.

 _"_ _What does that one do?"_

Severus sighed. "It is a new formula designed to curb hallucinations. Obviously, it was unsuccessful, as evidenced by the fact that I am still having a conversation with you."

 _"_ _I am not a hallucination."_

"I do not want to get into yet another argument with a dislodged fragment of my psyche." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Will you go away?"

 _"_ _No."_

Severus sighed, then stalked to his bedroom and grabbed a battered trunk. He began gathering some of his clothes and books into it. As he bent to pick up a book, a flare of pain in his lower back caused him to wince slightly.

 _"_ _You should see Madam Pomfrey about that."_ Silence. _"_ _Or I could help you. If you bond with me."_

"You are a hitherto unknown side effect of overuse of occlumency. You are what happens when a wizard over-compartmentalizes his mind to withstand violent legilimency attacks. You are not real!"

 _"_ _So you are saying I'm the physical manifestation of your conscience? If that's the case, you should listen to me more often."_ The phoenix sounded amused. Severus snarled. _"_ _But if you truly think that I am a part of you, what would be the harm in bonding?"_

"Yes, what could possibly be the harm in letting the lunatics run the asylum?" he drawled.

 _"_ _You are not insane."_ The phoenix reconsidered. _"_ _Well, not overly insane. A high functioning neurotic with flares of psychosis?"_ Severus seethed. _"_ _In any event, it doesn't really matter, since I am_ not _a hallucination. I am not a side effect of occlumency. I am not even a physical manifestation of your conscience, except possibly metaphorically._ _I am real, and I want to help you."_

"Fine. In that case, I am not bonding with my stalker, who just happens to be invisible and inaudible to everyone other than me. Now go away and leave me in peace."

The phoenix looked hurt. _"_ _I've explained this before. Unbonded phoenixes can only appear to those who meet certain criteria._ _And you're_ not _the only one who can see me. Your penpal can see me, too."_

Severus sneered. "My 'penpal,' as you call him, whom I have never had the dubious pleasure of meeting in person? Who is forbidden from communicating with the outside world, and thus all of our 'correspondence' is verbal and goes through you? That is your proof?"

 _"_ _He told you things that you did not know. That you could not have known without him telling you._ _That is proof."_

That was a fair point, Severus admitted to himself, but he did not let it show on his face. He did not know why he was arguing with the bird – he should know better by now. Either the phoenix was real or he had a very unusual manifestation of a seer's talents.

 _"_ _Speaking of whom, he has another letter for you. Want to hear it now?"_

Severus waved a hand in agreement.

 _"_ _My dear friend,_

 _I hope this finds you well. I am troubled by your most recent missive._ _I can think of no rituals in and of themselves that would yield the physical symptoms you describe._ _However, the_ _Veselin ritual combined with a modified Animus Bestiarum using a serpent as the focus could potentially lead to the scale growth you encountered._

 _On a more pleasant topic, I thoroughly disagree with your contention that Goethe is superior to Heinrich der Braun. While the former's lyricism and command of language are indeed commendable, Heinrich's work encapsulates the very literal magic of poetry._ _Read his_ Die Alte Hexe _aloud – preferably in a controlled space free of muggles – and then tell me that Goethe is the greater poet!_

 _Will you be able to visit Aachen for the conference?_ _Has the senile fool even congratulated you yet?_ _Truly, though, if Albus is being difficult, do let slip a few of his secrets._ _Alas, if Riddle is the problematic one, I have no such leverage to offer._

 _As ever, my friend, I thank you for your letters. Without them, I feel certain I would have succumbed to insanity years ago."_

So, his correspondent – or his subconscious – thought that the Dark Lord had combined two rituals. Severus was vaguely familiar with the Animus Bestiarum. It required significant magical energy and extensive preparation but granted only minor, temporary boons. He made a mental note to research what the Veselin ritual entailed.

 _"_ _Any reply?"_

"Not at the moment."

 _"_ _Good. That means I can stay with you until you're ready to respond."_

"No, you most definitely cannot."

The phoenix ignored him and flew to settle on his left shoulder. Severus tried to push it off, without success.

"My loathing for you is absolute and eternal."

 _"_ _Like the phoenix."_ The phoenix sounded very smug. Severus growled. Determinedly ignoring the bird, he finished packing.

-DVDVDV-

Minerva was waiting in the entrance hall.

"Severus," she greeted. He inclined his head slightly – just enough to be an acknowledgement, not enough to convey respect. _He is still upset about what happened with Albus._ "I'd hoped to catch you before you left for the summer."

"Congratulations, you succeeded. What do you want?"

Minerva took a deep breath, trying not to snap at him. Snape was rarely pleasant under normal circumstances. Two meetings with Albus, neither of which apparently went well for him, would not improve his temper. Worse still, she had been witness to his latest humiliation.

"I wanted to apologize," she said. She fought not to smile as she saw shock momentarily flicker on his face before settling into a flat mask. "Albus should not have legilimized you, especially not in front of me. I should not have stood by and let him."

Snape nodded. "Was there anything else? Or can I finally leave this pestilential school?" So quickly that she almost missed it, his eyes flickered to a spot just over his left shoulder before returning to her.

Minerva tried not to show that she was hurt by his casual dismissal of her apology. "No, nothing else, Severus."

"Then I bid your leave for the summer." Without waiting for a reply, he strode past her towards the grounds.

"But Severus, don't you need your trunk?" she called after him.

He turned and sneered at her. "I am a _wizard_. Or perhaps you are unfamiliar with a simple shrinking charm?"

It took considerable power to shrink an entire trunk and its contents to fit in a pocket, as Minerva now presumed he had done, and then keep it that way long enough to go from the dungeons to the entrance hall. She forbore to mention this.

"Yes, of course I am. Really, Severus –"

"Now, if you will excuse me," he interrupted her. "I have better things to do than remain here all day." He strode off.

"He really does trust you, Severus," Minerva said softly. For a moment, she was not sure if he had heard her, but then he said, not turning around or pausing in his stride, "Most people do not need legilimency in order to trust someone."

She watched him until he was out of sight.

A/N: Please review! Internet cookies for anyone who gets the reference from Severus's second password.

This chapter introduces the fic's only major OC. Any other OCs will be along the lines of "third Death Eater from the left," or "random Ministry flunky who has two lines of dialog and is never heard from again."


	3. Chapter 3

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 3**

With a wave of his wand, Severus shrank his trunk and placed it in his pocket. He navigated back to his office through the maze of books in his sitting room, again hiding the door to his quarters with the shelves of ingredients. He then spent several minutes in front of concealed entrance, casting wards to repel intruders, including the ever-meddlesome house elves. Why they thought they could invade his quarters in the summer just because he was not there escaped him.

That done, he reached into a pocket and extracted a bottle filled with a dark green, viscous liquid. Slowly, carefully, he poured its contents in a perfect semi-circle in front of the hidden entrance. Inside the semi-circle he drew three runes with the same potion.

"Protegere. Monere. Punire."

The dark green pattern flared brightly before suddenly disappearing. Looking at the patch of floor, no one would be able to discern that anything had been drawn there at all.

 _"_ _And you say I'm flashy."_ Severus snorted, amused. The monotony of packing had calmed him.

He made one last check of his office to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. Finding nothing amiss, he began the trek from the dungeons to the apparation point just off the grounds, the phoenix still perched on his left shoulder.

The phoenix chattered continually as he walked. Not for the first time, Severus pondered how he could raise the topic of permanently killing a phoenix with Dumbledore. The trick would be convincing the headmaster that he wished no harm to Fawkes.

That thought reminded him of the conversation earlier, and threatened his restored calm. _What is Dumbledore hiding?_

His thoughts we interrupted by Minerva, who was waiting for him in the entrance hall. "Severus," she greeted in her usual tones. She obviously could not see the phoenix on his shoulder. He inclined his head slightly. "I'd hoped to catch you before you left for the summer."

"Congratulations, you succeeded. What do you want?"

He waited impatiently as Minerva took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize," she said. Severus was surprised. _She apologized?_ _No, this is just another of the headmaster's games._ His expression hardened. "Albus should not have legilimized you, especially not in front of me. I should not have stood by and let him."

Severus nodded. "Was there anything else? Or can I finally leave this pestilential school?"

 _"_ _Why didn't you tell me that had happened?"_ The phoenix sounded hurt. Without meaning to, Severus glanced briefly at the bird before returning his attention to Minerva. Although trying to hide it, the deputy headmistress was obviously stung by the casual dismissal of her apology.

"No, nothing else, Severus."

"Then I bid your leave for the summer." Without waiting for a reply, he strode past her towards the grounds.

"But Severus, don't you need your trunk?" she called after him.

He turned and sneered at her. "I am a _wizard_. Or perhaps you are unfamiliar with a simple shrinking charm?"

"Yes, of course I am. Really, Severus –"

 _"_ _She does not realize how powerful you are."_ There was considerable smugness in the phoenix's mental voice.

He ignored the phoenix. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than remain here all day." He strode off.

"He really does trust you, Severus," Minerva said softly.

 _"_ _Is she talking about the phoenix-bonded?_ _Is she confunded?"_

Severus was careful not to turn around, lest Minerva see the slight smile tugging at his thin lips. Continuing to walk, he said, "Most people do not need legilimency in order to trust someone."

Several minutes later, he passed the edge of the Hogwarts wards. With a thought, he and the phoenix disapparated.

They reappeared in the middle of a dingy kitchen. An ancient icebox sat in one corner of the room. A few cupboards ran above the sink and oven. In the center of the room stood a small dining table with a solitary, uncomfortable-looking tall wooden chair. Through the door, a small, dimly lit sitting room filled with bookcases and two overstuffed armchairs could be seen. Although everything was clean and nothing was in obvious disrepair, an aura of neglect hovered throughout the place.

The phoenix immediately hopped off Severus's shoulder onto the back of the wooden chair.

 _"_ _So you keep this dump tidy but not your suite at Hogwarts?_ _You do realize how backwards that is, don't you?"_

"As much as I dearly appreciate your constant commentary on each and every facet of my miserable existence, hellspawn, would you mind _not_ trying to distract me when I am in public?" Severus's voice was low and dangerous.

The phoenix sniffed. _"_ _Fine, fine._ _You're no fun when you're in one of these moods._ _Wake me when you're ready to rain fire on your enemies."_ The phoenix tucked his head under one wing.

 _If all phoenixes are like this, it would certainly explain the headmaster's conversational oddities_ , Severus reflected.

-DVDVDV-

Eight days later, Severus was calmly tending to three bubbling cauldrons in the basement of his small house when the Dark Mark on his left arm burned. He barely managed to avoid dropping one of his stirring rods as he flinched in pain. He cursed, and then cast a quick stasis charm. Fortunately, none of these potions would react poorly to the spell. The Dark Lord had already called him twice since the school year had ended, and the last time had resulted in a ruined batch of wolfsbane. Dumbledore had not been pleased. _As if I can choose_ _when Dark Lord decides to summon me._

He ran up the stairs to his sitting room, waving a hand to summon his Death Eater regalia. He heard a faint _squawk_ , and then the phoenix flew to him from the same direction as his robes and mask.

 _"_ _You were going to leave without me,"_ the phoenix accused as Severus quickly donned his disguise. He did not reply, instead waving his wand at a silver bookend in the shape of a coiled snake. It immediately turned green. Dumbledore had a matching pendant that would change color as well, letting him know about the summons. With that done and the phoenix settled on his shoulder, he disapparated.

They reappeared in a ballroom that was not familiar to Severus. Voldemort sat on a beautiful carved marble throne. At his feet lay a huge black snake, looking like a parody of king with his faithful dog. No other Death Eaters were there. Severus knelt. "My lord," he murmured. Voldemort did not reply.

A few seconds later, others began appearing. Like Severus, each knelt before their lord. _Good, I'm not being singled out._ _Probably._ Finally, about a dozen masked figures completed the circle.

"Rise, my loyal followersss," Voldemort hissed. The assembled Death Eaters, Severus included, quickly stood. "Your prompt arrival isss noted. I have a task for you, to weaken our enemiesss' strength. And what better way than to crush their spiritsss than by destroying their loved ones?" His tone become slightly mocking as said those last words. "Serverussss, my faithful spy, you claim that Potter cares about the mudblood Granger and the blood traitor Weasley? That he would risk his life to protect theirsss?"

Severus inclined his head deeply in respect. "Yes, my Lord. The brat shows little concern for his own wellbeing if he feels his _friends_ ," he sneered the word, "are in danger."

"Excellent. We shall then use this to our advantage. Dumbledore's wardsss protect the boy even now, but his friendssss are another matter. Observe their habitsss, their defensessss, but do not strike. I will suffer no further failuressss from my Death Eaters. Severusss, describe the mudblood and blood traitor for the othersss present."

Severus bowed. "My Lord, Granger is an insufferable, overenthusiastic know-it-all who recites textbooks as a shield against having any original thoughts of her own." Voldemort laughed. It was a terrible, high-pitched sound. A few of the Death Eaters shuddered. Severus did not. "Her parents are dentists – a type of muggle healer dedicated to teeth. They are middle-class to upper middle-class, akin to the Boots or the Abbotts. Granger is of medium height and build, with bushy brown hair that she either lacks the motive or the ability to tame.

"As for Weasley, I doubt has ever had any thought, original or otherwise. He is lazy, boorish, and mediocre to the last degree. Having had the misfortune of teaching all of _that_ particular brood, he is, magically and intellectually, the clear runt of the litter. Physically, he is a typical Weasley – red-headed and having more freckles than sense." That raised a few nervous chuckles.

"Thank you, Severussss. Any questionsss for our spy?" None of the Death Eaters responded. "Very well. Here are your assignmentsss." Voldemort then proceeded to allot each of the Death Eaters days and times during which they were to observe either Weasley or Granger. One by one, upon informing them of their shifts, Voldemort dismissed them. Finally, only Severus was left.

There was silence in the empty ballroom. Severus remained still, head slightly inclined in respect. After several long minutes, Voldemort rose from his throne. He glided over to Severus, the giant snake following in his wake. As he approached, the phoenix, who had remained mercifully silent throughout, flew from Severus's shoulder. He circled once overhead, and then vanished in a flash of flame. Neither Voldemort nor his snake noticed.

"My faithful Severussss," Voldemort hissed, removing Snape's mask with one hand. "And you have been faithful, haven't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus replied, softly but without hesitation, looking into his lord's crimson eyes. "Always." He did not flinch as Voldemort stroked his cheek with one of his long, pale fingers.

A/N:

Severus's Latin wards: Roughly translated as "To protect. To warn. To punish." Apologies if I didn't get the tenses right – it's been years since I took Latin.

Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 4**

Two hours later, an exhausted Severus apparated alone across the street from Grimmauld Place. He fumbled in his pocket until he found a small vial. His hands were shaking too badly to remove the stopper, but that was hardly unexpected under the circumstances. Instead, he pressed against a small rune on the bottom of the bottle. The stopper vanished, and he quickly swallowed the contents, careful not to spill any of it. His shaking almost immediately stopped, although there were still a few small tremors in his hands. Cruciatus Relief worked well, but it was never wholly effective at healing the damage.

A moment later, there was a flash of fire, and he was joined by a phoenix. Severus blinked. "You came back." His voice was tired, dead. He felt vaguely disappointed. _So much for the thrice-cursed beast allowing me any freedom or privacy._

 _"_ _Sorry, I thought you wouldn't want a witness for that."_

"You were right." Severus began to cross the street to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

 _"_ _I can come inside with you."_

"No."

 _"_ _Fine._ _I don't like it there anyway._ _I'll see you at home."_

"Go visit the prisoner."

 _"_ _But –"_

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. He is alone. Go." The phoenix stared at Severus for a moment, and then disappeared in another flash of flame. Severus knocked on the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. As he waited for someone to let him in, he carefully hid his still trembling hands in the folds of his cloak. _Damn._ _I forgot to remove my Death Eater robes._ Voldemort still had his mask.

Severus debated shrugging the robes off now, but didn't want to be caught with them half-off when the door opened. _Better for it to seem deliberate, rather than mere absent-mindedness._

A pretty young woman with a heart-shaped face and shocking pink hair opened the door. _Nymphadora Tonks is in the Order?_ _That's new._ Her eyes widened at the sight of her former professor dressed as a Death Eater.

"Er, wotcha, Professor?" she said.

"Miss Tonks, if you would be so kind as to step aside?" She seemed to realize that she was blocking the door, and moved hastily to the right to let him in. She tripped, knocking over a large ornamental vase. Severus sneered and stepped inside.

Down the hall, a woman's voice began shouting. "Mudbloods! Traitors and filth, defiling the house of my fathers!"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Tonks cried as other Order members raced into the hall. They struggled to close the heavy curtains in front of the screaming portrait.

"Half-breed scum! Bringing shame on the noble –" Her voice abruptly broke off as the combined efforts of Molly Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt managed to close the curtains.

"We're meeting in the kitchen, dears," Molly whispered, careful not to reawaken the portrait.

The kitchen was dark and dank. A dozen or so Order members sat in chairs around a large table. Several of them started upon seeing Severus enter. _Yes, I definitely should have changed out of these robes._

"We're letting Death Eaters in the Order now?" growled Mad-Eye Moody. Several of the other members murmured in agreement. Sirius Black looked positively gleeful. Minerva McGonagall frowned.

"Alastor, Severus has my fullest confidence," Dumbledore chided gently, although his eyes were twinkling. _Really?_ _Since when?_ "His information saved many lives in the first war, and I expect will prove even more vital now."

"He's not even bothering to hide it!" Moody gestured angrily at Severus's Death Eater robes. "Just missing the mask and the blood."

"You would prefer I go home to change clothes first? Delay my report so that you do not have to think about where I get my information?" Snape drawled. _Damn, now I'm going to have to wear these robes every time I report from a summons._

"You should not be here at all! It's compromising security –"

"Alastor." Dumbledore's voice was still mild, but curtailed further argument. "Severus, is welcome here."

Black scoffed and muttered "No, he bloody well isn't."

Dumbledore ignored him. "Now, Severus, if you would please give us your report?"

 _Not bothering to offer me a chair?_ _Yes, I am clearly very welcome._ _No, for once, Black has the right of it._

"The Dark Lord recognizes that he is unable to harm Potter during the summer months due to the blood wards protecting the boy. However, he is aware of Potter's associates, and plans to play on his loyalty to them. He intends to target Potter's friends and, through them, lure the boy from safety. To that end, the Dark Lord has set Death Eaters to observe Granger and Weasley." At this, Severus nodded in the direction of Molly, Arthur, and Bill Weasley. They had all paled. Molly was trembling, and Arthur had clutched her hand for support.

"And how did Voldemort get that information, Snivellus? You selling out kids now?" Black interrupted angrily. Severus flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, as did a few of the other Order members.

"Potter's association with Granger and Weasley is public knowledge, Black," Severus drawled. "The Dark Lord hardly needs me to inform him of it.

"As I was saying before being interrupted, the Death Eaters do not have orders to attack, merely to relay their observations to the Dark Lord. However, it is doubtless only a matter of time before he strikes, either to capture them or to place them under the Imperius curse."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said gravely. "We will set precautions in place to ensure the safety of Miss Granger and Mister Weasley. Molly, Arthur, perhaps you would consider relocating your family to Headquarters, at least for the summer? With your permission, Sirius?"

"Of course," Black agreed immediately.

Arthur and Molly glanced at one another. Molly nodded vigorously, looking relieved. "Thank you, Albus, Sirius, we appreciate it. If it's alright with you, I think we'd like to go home and collect them now."

"Of course." Arthur and Molly rose and quickly left, followed by Bill.

"As for Miss Granger, I suggest setting a guard on her, as we have for Harry," said Dumbledore.

"Why not bring her here as well?" McGonagall asked.

"I fear that might tip our hand. We do not want to alert Voldemort that his spy is actually _our_ spy, after all." McGonagall did not look pleased by the decision to risk her student for the sake of Severus's cover, but she did not object further.

Moody snorted in disgust. "So you say."

"Yes, I do. I trust all of you. You need to trust each other. Was there anything else, Severus?"

"Yes. The Dark Lord has expressed his desire for me to attend the annual Potion Masters Symposium." In truth, Voldemort hadn't cared much either way, but he was willing to lose his servant for a few days. "It will be held in Aachen this year, from July 20th to the 22nd." _Three days, old man._ _I haven't left Britain in over fifteen years._ _Just let me have these three days._

Dumbledore frowned. "Did he say why?"

 _Because I groveled, and he was in a good mood, and_ _he decided that the success of the slave reflects well on the master._ "I am to present him with the Rod of Paracelsus." _And if he keeps it, so be it._ _But you will not deny me this, old meddler!_

"He intends for you to kill the recipient?" Dumbledore's tone was sharp. Several of the Order members glared at Severus in disgust.

"I am the recipient."

Silence.

"Oh, my dear boy. Why didn't you tell me?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded hurt.

"I should not have had to."

The headmaster flinched. "My apologies, Severus. And my congratulations, of course. It is a great honor, and I can think of no one more worthy. For which project –"

"It was covered in my annual _application_ ," Severus interrupted, sneering the last word. "I see no reason to reiterate its contents. Perhaps next year, you will at least do me the courtesy of reading it?"

"Severus, I –"

"Now, do you have any further questions about my report, or may I leave? I do have a syllabus to present to Minerva by the end of the week, after all." He bowed mockingly in McGonagall's direction.

The headmaster suddenly looked very old. Voice pained, he said, "Yes, Severus, you may go. Enjoy the Symposium. And thank you for your report."

Severus stormed out of the kitchen, robes billowing in his wake.

A/N: Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 5**

"Was there anything else, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes. The Dark Lord has expressed his desire for me to attend the annual Potion Masters Symposium. It will be held in Aachen this year, from July 20th to the 22nd."

Minerva understood the unspoken request, although it seemed that the others in the room did not. Although it was not common knowledge, Snape had been remanded into Dumbledore's custody following the first war. Unless Dumbledore gave his consent, the potions master could be thrown into Azkaban for leaving the country.

Dumbledore frowned. "Did he say why?"

"I am to present him with the Rod of Paracelsus."

"He intends for you to kill the recipient?" Dumbledore's tone was sharp. Minerva was surprised. _Albus doesn't know? There was an article in the_ Daily Prophet _. A small article, but even so. I thought he simply kept quiet so as not to embarrass Severus._

"I am the recipient."

Silence.

"Oh, my dear boy. Why didn't you tell me?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded hurt.

"I should not have had to." While Minerva didn't think that was entirely fair, she _could_ see his point. Last spring, Albus had made a dinnertime address to the school to announce that _Transfiguration Today_ had published her paper – her thirtieth scholarly article – on human-to-animal transfiguration. Minerva certainly hadn't been the one to tell him about the paper, and she hadn't even realized that this was her thirtieth publication until Albus had mentioned it.

When there was no announcement about Severus's far more impressive achievement, she had assumed he'd wanted Dumbledore to keep it quiet for his own inscrutable reasons. It had not even occurred to her that Albus was unaware of it. She herself had gifted Severus with a celebratory bottle of Old Ogden's after reading the article, and she knew that Filius Flitwick and Septima Vector had congratulated him as well. For weeks afterward, he had been inundated with cards commending him. How had Albus missed all that?

The headmaster flinched at his tone. "My apologies, Severus. And my congratulations, of course. It is a great honor, and I can think of no one more worthy. For which project –"

"It was covered in my annual _application_ ," Severus interrupted, sneering the last word. "I see no reason to reiterate its contents. Perhaps next year, you will at least do me the courtesy of reading it?" _Oh, Albus, you denied his application without even reading it? No wonder he was so angry._

"Severus, I –"

"Now, do you have any further questions about my report, or may I leave? I do have a syllabus to present to Minerva by the end of the week, after all." He bowed mockingly in Minerva's direction. She ignored the mockery – it wasn't truly directed at her.

The headmaster looked very old. Voice pained, he said, "Yes, Severus, you may go. Enjoy the Symposium. And thank you for your report."

Severus stormed out of the kitchen, robes billowing in his wake. Once he was gone, Remus asked, somewhat hesitantly, "Forgive my ignorance, but I've never been great shakes at potions. But what is the Rod of Paracelsus?"

The twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes, although his tone remained subdued. "The Rod of Paracelsus is the highest honor that the Guild bestows to potions masters, and it's only considered for revolutionary breakthroughs. It's very rarely granted – there might be only five people alive who hold one. I'm very curious what he did to earn it – even the invention of the wolfsbane potion wasn't enough for Damocles Belby to be considered. For someone of Severus's youth to receive the Paracelsus is entirely unprecedented. Then again, he _was_ the youngest potions master in centuries."

"He definitively disproved Agostini's Law," Minerva stated. All eyes turned to her in surprise. "The _Daily Prophet_ ran an article about the award months ago. When I congratulated him, I asked about his research." The unspoken reproach was clear in her voice.

"Agostini's Law?" Remus asked.

"'When brewing, only a witch or wizard can unlock or repurpose the power contained in magical plants and creatures, but the magic of a potion is solely the result of the magic inherent in the ingredients,'" Tonks recited. Upon seeing the others' surprised looks, she said, "What? I took Professor Snape's class for seven years, didn't I?"

"And I am certain he would be delighted that you retained your knowledge so well," Dumbledore replied, beaming.

"Basically, it just means that while a squib or muggle can't make proper potions, we don't actually use magic when brewing. It's all in the ingredients." Tonks shrugged. "It's why you don't see powerful wizards going into potions." Sirius laughed. Tonks seemed to realize that she had indirectly insulted Snape. Flustered, she hastily added, "No, I didn't mean –"

"No, I think you got it right the first time. Serves ol' Snivelly right," Sirius interrupted.

Dumbledore frowned, and then said, very clearly, "Severus Snape is a very powerful wizard. And one who deserves our respect." Sirius snorted, and Moody scoffed.

Dumbledore stared at them, blue eyes cold. "Sorry, sir," Sirius muttered. Moody said nothing. After a brief pause, Dumbledore turned back to Minerva.

"So, how did he disprove Agostini's Law?" he asked her, his tone again light. Only their long association let Minerva know that he was still displeased with Sirius and Moody.

"He created a potion using entirely non-magical ingredients. As I understand it, it was met with a great deal of skepticism at first. He then countered with two more potions, all using mundane ingredients. With these, Severus proved that the brewer imbues some of his own power into a potion, using stirring patterns to channel magic just as other disciplines use wand movements. The Guild was apparently delighted – they hope this will ultimately combat some of the misconceptions," Minerva glanced at Tonks, who blushed, "about the magical prowess of potions masters." There were a few chuckles.

"Well said, Minerva, and thank you. Now, is there any Order business before we assign shifts to guard Miss Granger?"

-DVDVDV-

After the meeting had ended, Sirius walked Dumbledore to the door. "Thank you again, my boy, for lending us the use of your home for Headquarters, and for letting the Weasleys stay here while they are being targeted," Dumbledore said softly, so as not to wake up Mrs. Black.

"Not at all – glad I can help. Just wish I could do more," Sirius fought to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He _hated_ being stuck in this house, doing nothing to help the war.

"If it's not too much trouble, perhaps you and Molly could try clearing out some of the other rooms?" Dumbledore suggested. "I fear we may soon be housing more refugees, possibly some wounded, and it would be good to have a safe place where our forces can rest and recuperate."

"Yes, of course." Having an actual task to perform restored some of Sirius's cheer.

"Excellent, now –" Dumbledore's voice broke off, as he caught sight of a dusty book on a clawed wooden table. He detoured over to it. "Sirius, my boy, might I borrow this?"

Sirius looked at the book quizzically. _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. He shrugged. "Sure. I have no interest in that rubbish." His tone suggested that he was surprised that Dumbledore evidently did. The headmaster smiled.

"Nor I, under normal circumstances. Alas, these circumstances are far from normal. I find myself trying to decode a message, but am missing the necessary cipher."

"And you think the cipher is in that book?"

"I can but hope." Dumbledore paused. "Your parents were interested in wizarding genealogies, were there not?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, they were mad for all that nonsense. Were furious when they realized I didn't give a damn about their so-called 'purity of blood.'"

Dumbledore nodded. "Did they ever, perchance, mention anything about royalty? Or princes?"

Sirius shook his head and frowned. "There are no wizarding princes."

"Then I fear I have some scintillating reading ahead of me," Dumbledore replied, waving the book. Sirius laughed.

-DVDVDV-

Alone again in the house aside from Kreacher and Buckbeak, Sirius went upstairs to get a start on making some rooms habitable for the incoming Weasleys _. I'll give Molly and Arthur my parents' old bedroom, provided it isn't too far gone. Merlin, I hate this house_.

Fortunately, the old master bedroom was still in decent repair, although there was a worrying doxy infestation in some of the curtains.

"Kreacher!" he called. The miserable old house elf materialized in front of him.

"Master calls Kreacher," the old elf said. "Worthless blood traitor, broke my mistress's heart, he did."

"The old bitch never had a heart to break," he retorted. "Now, do we have any doxycide?"

"Yes, master."

"Good. Bring it here, and then get back to cleaning."

Kreacher disapparated, and then returned a minute later with an ancient, half-empty bottle of doxycide. With one last venomous look at Sirius, the elf disapparated again.

"Let's hope this stuff doesn't go bad," Sirius said to himself. He cast a bubblehead charm and began to spray.

An hour later, the doxies were dead and the Weasleys still hadn't arrived. Sirius was getting worried. _Snivellus probably lied and this was a trap to get them killed._ Suddenly, he heard a rattling coming from the wardrobe. With his wand out, he cautiously opened it.

James jumped out. "Prongs!" Sirius cried, shocked.

"You failed us. You got me and Lily killed." James accused. Sirius trembled. "You abandoned Harry when he needed you. We should never have trusted you."

"No! No, that's – that's not true. You're just – just a boggart. R-riddiculus!"

 _Crack!_ James transformed into Harry. "You never came for me! I hate you!"

Sirius started sobbing. "No, no, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Gathering himself together, he bellowed, "Riddiculus!"

 _Crack!_ Harry turned into a teenaged Snape, who slipped in a puddle of grease. Sirius barked a laugh. The boggart shuddered, and Sirius was able to force it back into the wardrobe. He rubbed the tears from his face.

Sirius levitated the wardrobe out of the bedroom and into what was previously his father's study. The doorbell rang, and his mother's portrait started screaming again. _That must be the Weasleys._ _I can dispose of the boggart later._ Smiling, he went downstairs to greet his guests.

A/N: Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 6**

Severus materialized in an empty forest clearing with a loud crack. After casting a quick set of privacy wards, he dropped all of his occlumency shields. His emotions, volatile even under normal circumstances, exploded through him as he removed his restraints on them.

And he let his rage free.

He blasted trees and shrubs apart with curse after curse, never repeating a spell. After about ten minutes of furious casting, he began a long, low chant. Although the sky was clear, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck the earth about twenty feet in front of him, searing a crater in its wake.

Panting heavily, Severus fell to his knees. His temper had finally dissipated. His hands were again trembling, as much from the expenditure of power as the repercussions of his recent summons. He pulled a potion from a pocket and swiftly downed its contents. The shaking stopped.

He should restore his shields.

Instead, standing, he cancelled the wards, and then apparated back to his kitchen. He shrugged off his Death Eater robes and carefully placed them on the back of the kitchen chair.

He opened one of his cupboards. Inside were dozens of vials filled with potions. He selected one and drank. He sat back in his chair, and stared, unseeing, at the wall in front of him.

An hour passed. And still, he did not restore his shields.

Severus felt his lungs constricting. His breathing had grown irregular. He _knew_ he should raise his occlumency shields, but still, he did nothing. He loathed his reliance on occlumency, for all that he acknowledged its necessity when dealing with his two masters. He hated the sensation of dulled emotions, hated his rage and despair whenever they broke free, hated knowing that he would be long since dead without it, hated how occlumency kept him alive. _I should have died as a student at Hogwarts._ _I should have died innocent._ _I should have died._

And so he continued to sit and stare at the wall.

Another hour passed.

Severus coughed. Specks of blood appeared on his lips. He coughed again. The second cough finally jarred him into action. Slowly, as if working through a mental haze, he raised his occlumency shields.

And his apathy dissipated.

For the third time that day, he reached into a pocket and withdrew a potion. He drank, and his coughing stopped. His breathing eased. _Completely dropping my shields is no longer safe._ _I need to maintain a safeguard._ _I nearly waited too long._

Sighing, he removed another potion from his pocket. He contemplated it in silence for a minute, staring at his small, cramped writing on the label – "Prince's Kiss." _Didn't want to take this again so soon._ He drank, and his world became less hopeless, less empty.

"Tempus." He checked the time and cursed. It was already late evening.

He went over to the icebox and opened it. Inside were a jug of milk, a small slab of cheese, and five transparent containers. Three of them contained a glutinous pink liquid, and these each had a handwritten label with "Sample" followed by a number. The other two containers were labeled as "Curry" and "Soup."

Severus removed the curry. With a wave of his hand, he cancelled the preservation spell on it. With another wave, he heated the dish. Taking a fork from a drawer, he sat and began to eat. A few minutes later, and with most of the meal still untouched, he mechanically placed the container back in the icebox and restored the preservation spell. He washed his fork, dried it with a quick spell, and returned it to its drawer.

Severus sighed. It was time to get back to work.

He returned to his basement laboratory and cancelled the stasis spells on the three cauldrons. He mentally reviewed the list of potions that his masters required of him. It was going to be a long night.

-DVDVDV-

When the summons came seven hours later, Severus was still brewing in his basement. He had finished the batches from earlier, but still had a substantial number of potions to complete to restock Madam Pomfrey's infirmary. _It's been less than a day!_ Nonetheless, he quickly cast stasis spells on two cauldrons, and then vanished the contents of the third. It would not keep.

Back upstairs, he quickly donned his Death Eater robes again. He grabbed a quill and transfigured it into an approximation of his normal mask. He waved his wand to turn his silver bookend green and then disapparated.

He materialized in the same ballroom he had been in yesterday. Voldemort again sat in his throne, although this time, the great black snake was nowhere to be seen. His long pale fingers traced the edges of a mask in his lap. Severus's mask.

Severus knelt.

"Severusss, you grow negligent."

"My lord," Severus murmured, aware that Voldemort would take it either as agreement or a question, depending on his mood.

"You were quite carelesssss, leaving your mask behind earlier. And yet, you kneel before me, masked, as if you had not forgotten the giftsss I bestowed upon you."

 _I didn't forget!_ _You kept it!_ Severus bowed his head in penitent respect. "Apologies, my lord. I transfigured this inadequate replacement until such time as I could return to your side and request my proper mask."

"Remove it." Severus immediately did. With a wave of his hand, Voldemort floated Snape's mask over to him.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Do not be so forgetful again, my pet," Voldemort said.

"No, my lord."

"And now the reason I summoned you." _Damn._ _Not just the bloody mask._ "Has Dumbledore revealed more details of the prophecy to you?" _Well, that explains why no one else is here._

"My lord, the headmaster has informed a few select members of his Order that there is a prophecy, but he refuses to divulge any of the particulars."

Voldemort probed Severus's mind with legilimency, reviewing scenes of Dumbledore making vague references to the prophecy in front of various Order members, of Dumbledore refusing to provide him with any concrete information.

"I am most displeased with you, Severusss. You were supposed to have discovered this information by now. Crucio!" Severus convulsed on the ground, limbs flailing. He struggled for almost a minute before a scream escaped his lips. A moment later, Voldemort cancelled the spell.

Severus knew better than to plead forgiveness for his failure. Voldemort saw such displays at weakness, and it could encourage further punishment. Fighting to control his breathing, he returned his shaking limbs to a kneeling position. "I shall endeavor to prove more successful in the future, my lord," he murmured. _Not that I will ever succeed._ _Dumbledore will never tell me the rest of that blasted prophecy._

"It isss clear that the old fool will not divulge this information lightly. No, I must retrieve it through other meanssss." Voldemort stood in silence for several long moments. Severus said nothing. "Your arm."

Despite the residual tremors still wracking his body, Severus did not hesitate. He held out his left arm. Voldemort rolled up the sleeve and touched his wand to the dark mark. It burned hot and cruel on his skin. Severus's expression did not change.

A few minutes later, a masked and robed Death Eater apparated. From his profile, Severus recognized the man as Walden McNair, an executioner for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic.

McNair knelt. "My lord," he murmured.

"You may rise." As the command was clearly only directly to McNair, Severus remained as he was. "You will bring me an Unspeakable."

"Yes, my lord." McNair was obviously confused, but knew better than to question his orders.

"Go." McNair disapparated. Voldemort turned back to Severus. "You are dismissed, Severussss. Do not forget yourself again."

Severus bowed and disapparated.

-DVDVDV-

Across the street from Grimmauld Place, Severus removed his mask and drank a Cruciatus Relief potion. _Only four left_ , he thought. He'd had twenty-five doses at the start of summer. _I need to brew more._ His hands still trembled slightly. It took longer and longer for the shaking to settle now.

Severus crossed the street and knocked on the door to Grimmauld Place. Remus Lupin answered almost immediately. Severus scowled at the sight of him. Lupin quickly moved aside to let him in.

"Hello, Severus. We didn't expect to see you so soon. Congratulations, by the way, on the Paracelsus."

"Lupin," Severus greeted coolly, striding down the hall to the kitchen.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked. Snape paused, turning back to look at him. "Your hands are shaking." Lupin gestured, and Severus tucked them into sleeves to hide them.

"It is nothing that concerns you, wolf," Severus snapped, his voice cold.

"Those are Cruciatus tremors, aren't they?" Lupin's tone was sad, gentle.

"Do you have a point, or do you simply enjoy stating the obvious?"

Lupin sighed. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"But –"

Severus interrupted him. "I require nothing except to give my report and leave."

"We might have some Cruciatus Relief somewhere – " Lupin offered.

"Thank you for your helpful suggestion, Lupin," Severus said sarcastically. "As a potions master, Cruciatus Relief would never have occurred to me. Now bugger off."

Lupin seemed to have finally realized that Severus had already taken the potion. The lack of immediate effect suggested ongoing nerve damage. The more Severus was exposed to the Cruciatus, the longer the recovery process would take. Eventually, he would never recover, and the trembling would become permanent. That would prevent all but the simplest wandwork, and would effectively destroy Snape's ability to brew. Lupin's eyes widened in sudden horrified understanding.

"You're facing permanent damage, aren't you?"

"I do not require your pity," Snape snarled. _I will be dead long before then._ The thought comforted him. He continued to the kitchen. Lupin mercifully fell silent, and followed.

Severus gave his report, and then listened, bored, as the Order deliberated on how to proceed. Severus stifled a yawn. He hadn't slept for almost 22 hours, and he could already predict what Dumbledore's decision would be. After an interminable amount of time, the headmaster finally decreed that the Order would assign some members to guard the Hall of Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries. _Just as I expected. Couldn't you have said this an hour ago, old man?_

Lupin stared at Severus's sleeves the entire time, long after the man's hands finally stopped shaking.

A/N: Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 7**

 _HOGWARTS PROFESSOR ACCEPTS ROD OF PARACELSUS_

 _WERE THE DARK ARTS INVOLVED ?_

 _July 22, 1995_

 _Aachen, Germany –Professor Severus Snape, 35, potions master and Head of Slytherin House at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, today accepted the_ _distinguished Rod of Paracelsus from the Guild of Potions Masters._ _His acceptance marks him as the youngest person ever to receive this prestigious honor._ _The previous record-holder, Octavius Featherstone, was 67 when presented with the Rod in 1823._

 _Some Guild members have privately expressed their shock that someone so young could make so notable a mark in the field._ _"_ _It's absolutely incredible," said Julio Salvatore, 83._ _"_ _I've been a member of the Guild for almost 50 years, and I've never seen such a rapid rise._ _Master Snape is a true prodigy."_

 _But could something more sinister account for his success?_

 _"_ _All anyone can talk about is Snape," said_ _Damocles Belby, 62, a charismatic potions master best known for his invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, for which he earned a well-deserved Order of Merlin._ _"_ _He may be their little darling now, but fifteen years ago, everyone knew that he was up to his ears in the Dark Arts."_

 _When questioned if he believed Snape to have used such nefarious means to achieve this victory, Master Belby asked, "Who can say?_ _Perhaps he used the Dark Arts, perhaps the actual genius was obliviated, perhaps he pulled a Harry Potter and his supposed 'great discovery' is just a prettily packaged fraud._ _But I just can't see Snape coming up with it on his own._ _What are his other contributions to the art?_ _You don't just pull this stuff out of nowhere."_

 _When pressed for comment, Guild spokesman Ernesto de la Rosa stated that, "Master Snape has 47 patents – over three times as many as Master Belby – and has published over three dozen scholarly articles._ _This seems to be a clear case of professional jealousy._ _The Dark Arts accusation is baseless slander."_

Lucius Malfoy set down his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ with a sigh. Even with his resources, it had been difficult keeping a relatively neutral spin on his friend's triumph. Minister Fudge had taken a fair amount of convincing to believe that the potions master was coerced by Dumbledore to reveal the returned Dark Mark, rather than willingly working against him. _Which was obviously the case._ _Even Severus isn't_ that _suicidal when left to his own devices._

Taking out a quill and some parchment, Lucius wrote a brief note inviting his friend to the manor for a congratulatory supper once he returned to Britain.

-DVDVDV-

As Severus had expected, Voldemort had kept the Rod of Paracelsus. The Dark Lord had been _very_ pleased with it. Severus had felt a pang of loss at surrendering it; the Rod was a beautiful thing, an ebony stirring rod enlaced with ivory, perfectly molded for his hand. He quashed his regrets. It was enough to have been allowed to receive it at all. Besides, he had managed to find a few promising books in Aachen, and his discussions with the other members of the Guild were quite productive.

Severus knocked on the door to Grimmauld Place. After a few moments, Lupin opened it, looking tired and haggard. The full moon was only a few days away. _I'll have to start the wolfsbane tonight._

"Severus," Lupin greeted, glancing at the potions master's hands, which were perfectly still. Severus raised an eyebrow, as if daring Lupin to comment. _No, I wasn't subjected to the Cruciatus today._ The werewolf flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"Perhaps you could let me inside? I do believe that there is supposed to be a meeting now." _The less time I'm forced to spend here, the better._

"Ah, yes. Of course." Lupin let Snape in. "Most of the Order hasn't arrived yet, but there are a few waiting in the kitchen." _Lovely._ _I get to wait in a confined space filled with people who despise and distrust me._

They walked in silence through the hall, careful not to awaken the portrait of Sirius's mother. After a few steps, Lupin breathed heavily through his nose, and then suddenly stopped, flushing. _Is his sniffing me?_

"What is it now, Lupin?" Severus hissed.

Lupin's flush deepened. "Nothing! Sorry, it's nothing. Just a side effect of the full moon." He seemed flustered and highly embarrassed. Severus glared at him. "Er, shall we continue on?"

With a final scowl at Lupin, Severus stalked towards the kitchen.

-DVDVDV-

In the kitchen, Sirius and Remus were regaling Ron and Weasley twins with tales of the Marauders' greatest pranks. They were doubled over with laughter.

"You really dyed all of the Slytherins' hair pink?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, got the house elves to dose their goblets at dinner. It was brilliant! You should have heard the shrieks," Sirius reminisced. "Pity it didn't last long."

"Severus figured out the antidote," Remus explained.

Sirius scowled. "Yeah, but we got him back for that."

"Really? What did you do?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Prongs nicked some Venezuelan Taloned Marigolds from the greenhouses and managed to put them in his bookbag. Ripped his textbooks to absolute _shreds_. Ol' Snivellus spent _hours_ repairing them!" Remus felt a twinge of guilt, but laughed along with the others.

"Why didn't he just buy new books?" George asked, wheezing through his laughter.

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Couldn't afford them, could he?" He chuckled. "Everyone knew the greasy git didn't have two knuts to rub together."

The Weasleys had stopped laughing. "Snape's poor?" Fred asked.

"Sure. Well, maybe not anymore," Sirius admitted, missing the change in atmosphere. "Wouldn't know it looking at the bastard now, but he was _desperate_ for money back then. Threadbare robes, textbooks falling apart at the seams . . . He used to raid the owlery for dropped feathers – guess he couldn't afford to buy new quills. I overheard Regulus telling my mother how he'd brew any potion you'd like for the cost of ingredients and a few sickles." He chuckled.

The Weasleys looked sick. Fred and George were staring at Sirius, as if they couldn't believe what their hero was saying. They turned to look at one another.

"I can't believe –" began Fred.

"– that I'd ever feel sorry for Snape," finished George.

Someone knocked on the door to Grimmauld Place. "I'll get it," Remus said quickly, rising, glad of an excuse to leave the room. Even so, he felt guilty leaving Sirius to try and salvage the situation.

"Severus," Lupin greeted, opening the door. He glanced at the potions master's hands, which were perfectly still. _At least he wasn't tortured this time._ Snape raised an eyebrow. Lupin flushed as he realized that Snape had noticed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"Perhaps you could let me inside? I do believe that there is supposed to be a meeting now."

"Ah, yes. Of course." Remus let Snape in. "Most of the Order hasn't arrived yet, but there are a few waiting in the kitchen." _Oh, dear._ _That would just be Sirius and the Weasleys._ _This is going to be a disaster._

They walked in silence through the hall, careful not to awaken the portrait of Sirius's mother. This close to the full moon, with his senses heightened, he could tell that there was something just slightly _off_ about Snape's scent. Remus sniffed, and then suddenly stopped. _Oh._ He felt his face heat.

"What is it now, Lupin?" Snape hissed.

Remus felt his flush deepen. "Nothing! Sorry, it's nothing. Just a side effect of the full moon." _And I can tell that you recently had sex. Oh, Merlin, I did_ not _need to know that._ _You are going to kill me._ Snape glared at him. "Er, shall we continue on?"

With a final scowl at Lupin, Snape stalked towards the kitchen, robes billowing behind him. Almost sagging in relief, Remus followed him.

Sirius had obviously managed to placate the Weasleys, as the atmosphere in the kitchen was again raucous with laughter as Remus and Snape approached.

"– bucking like mad! Snape didn't have a chance – he fell right off his broom!" Sirius and the Weasleys laughed. _Oh, dear._ _This was not going to be pleasant_ , Remus thought. He glanced nervously at Snape, who stood, furious, in the doorframe.

"Did you know," Snape said, his deep voice silky and soft with menace, "that the Dark Lord, while possessing Quirrell, cast the exact same hex on your dear godson's broom?" Sirius and the Weasleys turned to Snape in surprise, not having realized he was there.

"What?!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yeah, but Harry managed to stay on! _And_ he caught the snitch," Ron retorted.

"Yes," Snape continued, still in that quiet, dangerous voice. "Fortunately for the witless wonder, I was familiar with the countercurse. I find it painfully ironic how Potter's pathetic attempt to kill me led to me learning the very spell necessary to save his idiotic son's life."

"He didn't try to kill you, Severus," Remus said. "It was just –"

"Just a prank?" Snape hissed. "Yes, it always was, wasn't it? Never mind that I was forty feet in the air at the time, or that I shattered my right arm and broke three ribs in the fall. It was just _harmless fun_."

"I'm sorry, Severus, we shouldn't have – " began Remus. At the same time, Sirius snarled, "It was no more than a sneaking Death Eater wanabee like you deserved." _Damn it, Sirius, you're not helping!_

Snape's hand twitched. Remus feared he was going to draw his wand. Fortunately, Molly Weasley chose that moment to come in to the kitchen.

"Upstairs with you lot," she said to her children. "I want to clear out the study today." They left the kitchen with unusual alacrity, looking relieved at an excuse to escape. Noticing the tension in the room, Molly frowned. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Molly, just a little misunderstanding," Sirius replied. He flashed her a smile. She relaxed, although she did not appear convinced. _Even after Azkaban, he can still charm with that grin._

"Severus, perhaps you'd like to wait upstairs until the others arrive?" Remus asked. Snape scowled but left. His robes billowed angrily about him in his wake. _I wonder how he does that._

"Oh, Molly, before I forget, watch out for the wardrobe in the study. Don't let any of the kids deal with that. Maybe Snape could handle it?" Sirius said. Remus eyed him suspiciously. _What trouble are you plotting now, Sirius?_

A/N:

No, despite Remus's nose, this isn't suddenly going to become a romance. Yes, there will be a few references to sex and romance in the fic, but they are most definitely not the focus. Severus has far more pressing concerns, thank you.

Please review!


	8. Chapter 8

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 8**

Molly Weasley caught up with Severus on the stairs. "Would you mind checking out the wardrobe in the study? Sirius mentioned that there was something dangerous in there, and I don't want any of the children getting hurt."

"Can't the mutt do it himself?" He looked at her anxious face and sighed. "Very well." _Of course, why wouldn't I have to do everything?_ She led him to the study, and then bustled off to see to her innumerable children.

Severus looked around the dusty room. He remembered seeing it years ago, shortly after Sirius Black had run away from home. Orion and Walburga Black had questioned him here for hours before finally determining that they were willing to overlook his status as an impoverished half-blood. He suspected that their elder son's well-known hatred for him had been the deciding factor in them agreeing that he would make an acceptable potions tutor for Regulus over the summer holidays.

Orion had kept the magnificent room meticulously tidy, and back then, Severus had ached with desire. _Someday, I will have a room like this_ , he had promised himself at the time. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen_ , he thought now, unsure whether he meant the study or himself.

Sighing at his wasted dreams, he went over to examine the wardrobe. It did not fit the decor of the room, even neglected as it was, but did not seem otherwise noteworthy. _Either the mutt or the mad house elf must have moved it here._ He opened it and peered inside. As he did so, he felt a flash of flame to his left. He turned and saw the phoenix. _Damn._ _As if my day hadn't already been shot to hell._

"I seem to recall you saying that you did not like it here," he drawled. "Shouldn't you still be with the prisoner?"

 _"_ _I changed my mind._ _Besides, he wanted me to congratulate you on his behalf, now that you're back from the award ceremony._ _Do you have the Rod?_ _Can I see it?"_

"No, to both questions. There, your business here is done. Begone, Creature of Evil."

 _"_ _You have it backwards again._ _I'm a phoenix. By definition, I'm a creature of good."_

"Is there a difference?" Severus grumbled rhetorically. The phoenix chose to ignore his comment.

 _"_ _Your friend asked if you've had a chance to read_ Die Alte Hexe _aloud yet."_

"Naturally, in my copious free time," Severus snapped. "And he is most decidedly not my friend, as we have never actually met. Now leave."

 _"_ _I think you can be friends anyway._ _That's why they're called 'penpals' – it's because you're_ pals _."_

"Get thee behind me!"

The phoenix's laughter rang in his mind. _"_ _I am neither demon nor devil."_

"Leave anyway." The phoenix instead flew onto his accustomed place on Severus's left shoulder.

 _"_ _Nope, I want to see an Order of the Me meeting."_

"The Order was named after Fawkes, not you," Severus replied. Resigned, he turned from the phoenix and began studying the inside of the wardrobe. Aside from an ancient pair of socks in one corner, it was entirely empty.

 _"_ _A likely story."_ The phoenix paused, and then added brightly, _"_ _But that's okay, I don't mind sharing the glory with him._ " Severus snorted and began casting diagnostic spells on the socks. They were slightly moth-eaten, but otherwise unremarkable. He cast again, now focusing on the wardrobe itself. Nothing. He frowned. _What is Black playing at this time?_ He pinched the bridge of his nose and eyed the antique chair by the desk. He briefly considered sitting before deciding against it. _Still too sore_ , he thought. Instead, he began to pace the room, ignoring the phoenix, who finally fell mercifully silent.

-DVDVDV-

As they waited for the rest of the Order to arrive, Remus tried to get Sirius to tell him what mischief he was plotting. Unfortunately, Sirius refused to divulge anything. "It's a surprise, Moony," and "It'll serve the greasy git right," were all that Remus could get him to say on the subject. On the other hand, Sirius had quite a bit to say about Snape "turning the boys against me." Remus tried to explain to him that, no, it was the Marauders' past cruelties that had done it, but that had merely set Sirius off to visit Buckbeak in a sulk.

As the rest of the Order trickled in, Sirius again made an appearance, restored to apparent good humor. Molly joined a few minutes later. As the meeting was about to start, Remus volunteered to go upstairs to fetch Snape.

He found Snape pacing, irritated, in a large study. He stared in disbelief. A vibrant red and gold phoenix was perched on Snape's left shoulder, yet Snape acted as if he did not realize it was there.

"What do you want now, Lupin?" Snape snarled.

Remus internally debated what to say. _Severus, there's a phoenix on your shoulder._ Or perhaps, _By the way, Severus, did you know you have Fawkes on your shoulder?_ Instead, he blinked stupidly.

"Has prolonged exposure to the mutt sapped what few wits you had?" Snape demanded. Still, the man acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. _Is this part of Sirius's latest prank?_ _No, it can't be._ _Sirius wouldn't have been able to enlist Fawkes, after all._

Remus shook himself. "Er, right, sorry about that. Um, the Order meeting's about to start." _Either the world has gone completely insane, or I have._

As they made their way downstairs, Remus kept darting covert looks at Fawkes, as if to prove to himself that, yes, he was still there. He was. _Why is he here, rather than with the headmaster?_ _Did he need healing?_ _Severus didn't_ look _hurt earlier..._

Everyone stared as Snape entered the kitchen. Tonks dropped her teacup. No one noticed as it shattered on the floor.

Dumbledore recovered first. His eyes sparkled delightedly. "Goodness, Severus, did you meet your new friend at the symposium?"

For the first time, Snape seemed to realize that something was amiss. He glanced at the phoenix, which everyone was staring at avidly. He raised an eyebrow at it. The bird trilled in response. Snape scowled.

"What is Fawkes doing with _you_?" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief.

"That is not Fawkes," Dumbledore said. Looking more closely, Remus could see that he was right. This phoenix's coloring was a darker, deeper red than Fawkes's bright crimson.

Snape suddenly laughed, and everyone in the room flinched, even the magnificent phoenix. It was a horrible, broken sound. It conveyed no mirth, no amusement, just a terrible emptiness, as if the man laughing had lost all his hope, all his joy. Remus hoped that he would never have to hear it again.

"It is not even a phoenix," Snape said. "This creature is a boggart." He laughed again, and it was just as hollow as before. The "phoenix" shuddered. Then, suddenly, it began to change shape, shrinking and becoming a shifting, amorphous mass of color. _He's occluding_ , Remus realized.

As the boggart continued to shrink, Snape pulled a vial out of one of his pockets. With a wave of his wand, he forced the boggart into the bottle, and then stoppered it. He returned it to his pocket. "Thank you, Black, I can envision several uses for this particular specimen."

It took quite some time after that for the meeting to come to order.

A/N: Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 9**

Everyone stared as Severus entered the kitchen. Dumbledore recovered first. His eyes sparkled delightedly. "Goodness, Severus, did you meet your new friend at your symposium?"

Severus glanced at the phoenix, which everyone was staring at avidly. He raised an eyebrow at it in question. _"_ _Yes, they can see me."_ He scowled. Something was _not_ right here.

 _Assuming the phoenix isn't a figment of my imagination, I still haven't bonded with the blasted thing._ _Further assuming the phoenix has been telling me the truth all these years, no one else here should be able to see him._

"What is Fawkes doing with _you_?" Black exclaimed in disbelief.

"That is not Fawkes," Dumbledore said.

 _Black wanted me to look for something "dangerous" in the wardrobe, but it was empty._ _The phoenix appeared as soon as I opened it._

 _This isn't a phoenix._ _It_ is _a figment of my imagination, at least_ this _time._

Severus suddenly laughed, and everyone in the room flinched, including the false phoenix. _Really,_ this _is my boggart?_ _Am I supposed to be afraid of_ not _losing my mind?_ _Of redemption?_

 _Of being a slave, if only to my conscience_.

 _At least it's not bloody Lupin anymore..._

"It is not even a phoenix," Severus said. "This creature is a boggart." _This time, at least._ He laughed again. The boggart shuddered. Severus strengthened his occlumency shields, and it began to change shape, shrinking and becoming a shifting, amorphous mass of color.

Severus pulled an empty vial out of one of his pockets. With a wave of his wand, he forced the boggart into the bottle, and then stoppered it. He then returned it to his pocket. "Thank you, Black, I can envision several uses for this particular specimen."

It took quite some time after that for the meeting to come to order. Despite its rather unconventional start, the discussion devolved as predictably as ever. No, the form of his boggart did not reveal his continued loyalty to the Dark Lord. Yes, he had presented the Rod of Paracelsus to the Dark Lord. Yes, the Dark Lord was pleased. No, the Dark Lord did not say anything particularly of note. No, he was not a despicable traitor hiding things from the Order. _Do they actually think the Dark Lord tells me all of his elaborate plans – in detail – at each and every summons?_ _Yes, of course they do._ _Fools._

Finally, Severus's part in the farce was done. He folded his arms and listened to the others' reports, which mainly consisted of "nothing interesting happening while observing Granger or the Department of Mysteries." _Naturally, it's perfectly reasonable for_ them _to have nothing unusual to report, but Merlin forbid that_ I _say the same._

Finally, the meeting ended. As usual, Molly Weasley invited everyone to stay for dinner. And, as usual, nearly everyone accepted.

"Severus, will you join us?" she asked.

"I think not."

"Afraid Lucius will reject you if you gain an ounce?" Black taunted.

"Hardly," Severus drawled. "Although, naturally, I am flattered that you feel I can rival your cousin Narcissa's charms."

Lupin caught Black as he lunged towards Severus. Severus tensed, drawing his wand.

"Gentlemen," broke in Dumbledore. Black relaxed. Severus paused, and then slowly sheathed his wand. "Severus, if you have a few minutes, I'd like a word with you before you leave." He gestured towards the door.

"Of course, Headmaster."

As they left, Black said, loud enough for them to hear, "Then again, with those looks, he's probably still a virgin." He gave a bark of laughter. A few of the others joined him. Severus could hear Molly Weasley berate them.

"He's not a virgin," Lupin replied. His voice was so quiet that Severus barely heard it. _Bloody werewolf_ was _sniffing me earlier!_ Severus's hand twitched instinctively for his wand, but he continued to follow Dumbledore to the library. _Perhaps a few minor additions to his wolfsbane . . . ._

The headmaster sat in a large armchair and gestured for Severus to take a one as well. Inwardly groaning, he sat.

"First, I wish to convey my apologies again for not realizing that you had been granted the Rod of Paracelsus. I have read your paper, and it was quite brilliant." Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement, but did not otherwise accept the apology. "I confess I was surprised to see that you dedicated your research to Regulus Black." Severus registered the slight censure coming from the headmaster. _Upset that I granted a dead Death Eater the honor, old man?_

The dedication had been very simple. _In memory of Regulus Arcturus Black._ _I honor my debts._ _SS._

"Merely fulfilling an old promise." Dumbledore raised an encouraging eyebrow, but Severus did not elaborate.

 _The summer that he had tutored Regulus, Severus had baked a chocolate cake with basil icing for his friend's fifteenth birthday._ _It was an admittedly bizarre combination, but somehow he had made it work._ _Regulus had teasingly said that Severus could make magic even with ordinary ingredients._ _He had – jokingly – asked Severus to remember him when he disproved Agostini, whose law they had reviewed earlier that day._ _And yet Severus had taken it seriously, and began to experiment._ _By the time he finally succeeded, Regulus was long dead._

"Very well. I was wondering if you were care to comment on the magnificent form that your boggart took earlier?" Dumbledore's tone seemed light and vaguely curious, but Severus was not fooled. _My boggart assuming the form of a phoenix would make you suspicious, just like it did your minions back in the kitchen._ _At least it wasn't Fawkes – this was already a debacle._ _A boggart Fawkes would have been an unmitigated disaster._

Fortunately, Severus had anticipated this question, and was prepared for the headmaster's legilimency probe. Pretending to consider it, he paused momentarily before responding. "When I encountered the boggart, I had recently had a confrontation with Black and Lupin. I was occluding, which, as you saw earlier, can disrupt a boggart's manifestation. The only things that it could read through my shields would all have been fairly benign. I suspect it concluded that I would find a phoenix the least non-threatening of the available options."

Severus subtly guided Dumbledore's examination of his thoughts, hiding his memories of the phoenix. Instead, he ensured that the headmaster saw memories a teenaged Severus encountering a boggart werewolf in his defense OWL, and then the adult Severus occluding due to the encounter with Black and Lupin in the kitchen, dampening his emotional reaction to the pair.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. Although I do wish you felt you could drop your shields here, in the presence of friends."

 _All but one of my friends are dead, old man_ , Severus thought _._ Aloud, he said coolly, "Rein in your dogs, and I will drop my shields."

"Severus, you should not provoke them so." _Provoke them?_ _By daring to exist?_

"In that case, my shields are necessary." _I demolish forest clearings and drink poison when I drop my shields._ _Merlin knows what I might do to your precious Order._

Dumbledore sighed. "As you prefer, of course. But why didn't you simply dispose of the boggart while in the study?"

 _Because I thought it was just my typical delusion._ "Because I thought the reactions of the others would be amusing."

Again, the headmaster sighed. "One last thing, and then I'll let you go home. Have you made any headway in determining Voldemort's 'half-blood prince?'"

"I do believe you heard my report earlier? He has made no further mentions of recruitment, beyond those I previously iterated. Unless you suspect the giants or the werewolves?"

"No, that is unlikely given the wording." _Wording?_ "Thank you, anyway, my boy. You will let me know should you overhear anything?"

It was the close combination of "overhear" and "wording," that did it. Suddenly, the answer clicked into place for Severus. _Trelawney._ _She's made another blasted prophecy._ _Minerva heard it –_ that _is why she was there that day._ _Dumbledore would not have included her otherwise._

"Of course, Headmaster. Now, if you will excuse me?" Severus stood to leave.

 _I need to visit the Department of Mysteries._

A/N: Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 10**

As Dumbledore and Snape left the kitchen, Black said, loud enough for the departing wizards to hear, "Then again, with those looks, he's probably still a virgin." He gave a bark of laughter. A few of the others joined him.

"Sirius!" snapped Molly Weasley. "There is no call for that sort of comment!"

"He's not a virgin," Lupin murmured quietly, remembering what he had accidentally smelled earlier. Everyone in the room turned to him in surprise. Nymphadora Tonks nearly choked on her cup of tea. _Did I say that out loud?_ _Severus is going to kill me . . ._ Fortunately, it seemed that Snape had not heard him, as he continued with Dumbledore to the library.

"You didn't – not with _Snape_?" Sirius demanded, horrified.

"What? No, of course not, Sirius."

Sirius relaxed. Somewhat to Remus's surprise, so did Tonks. _Does she fancy Severus?_

"Then what makes you believe something so very improbable?" Sirius asked, now seeming amused.

"Really, that is quite enough!" Molly interrupted. "It is none of our business what Professor Snape does in his own time." Beside her, Arthur nodded.

"Or who he does," Sirius stage whispered to Tonks, who choked, trying to stifle a giggle.

"No, I think it is our business. I don't trust him. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. What do you know, Lupin?" demanded Moody.

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I really shouldn't have said anything. Severus deserves his privacy . . . ." he trailed off.

"Quite right, Mister Lupin, he does," Minerva said, her voice stern with disapproval. _Oh, she must be very annoyed with me, if she's calling me "Mister Lupin" like a misbehaving schoolboy._ "It is none of our business if a fellow other Order member seeks companionship from someone. I think we can all agree to leave the matter be?" Molly and Arthur Weasley nodded vigorously, but the rest of the Order seemed disappointed.

"It _is_ our business if security is compromised," Moody retorted. "Constant vigilance!" There were several nods. Remus fidgeted, feeling horribly guilty for having raised the subject.

"I will not be a party to this." Minerva rose from her seat. "Have some common decency." She left the room. Remus dithered a moment, but then began to rise as well. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Ah, come on, Moony. You can't leave us hanging like this," he wheedled. Remus looked around the room. The others' faces held a mix of predatory glee and amusement.

So Remus did what he always did under peer pressure. He caved.

"I, er, accidentally smelled him earlier, when he came in. It was faint, but this close to the full moon, my senses are heightened, and I could, er, recognize someone else's scent on him," he stammered. _Forget kill me, I'll be lucky if Severus ever lets them find my body._

"How recent?" demanded Moody.

"Does it matter?" Arthur interjected. He looked as if he wished he had left along with Minerva.

"Because that greasy bastard said he came directly from Voldemort, and I want to know if he was lying," Moody replied immediately. "Well?"

"Er, I'm not sure." At Moody's scowl, Remus added hastily, "It's not like I make a habit of this! I only noticed on accident!"

Moody looked displeased. "Do you at least know who it was?"

"Come on, Moony," cajoled Sirius.

"I didn't recognize his scent," Remus said. _Thank Merlin for small mercies._ _Severus is going to be furious enough as it is._

"His, huh? So Snivelly's gay?" Sirius seemed delighted. "Always figured he was the type."

"That is quite enough of that," Molly interrupted. "If any of you want to eat tonight, you will stop this gossiping." Remus felt relieved that the threat effectively silenced the discussion. "Arthur, dear, will you please see if Minerva still wants to join us for dinner?"

By the next day, the Weasley twins were running odds on the identity of "Snape's mystery lover."

-DVDVDV-

The old mudblood-loving fool and the mad half-breed traitor entered Mistress's library and sat on her chairs. _Oh, how angry Kreacher's Mistress would be, seeing their filth infest the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!_ Kreacher thought, glaring at them from a dark corner of the room.

"First, I wish to convey my apologies again for not realizing that you had been granted the Rod of Paracelsus. I have read your paper, and it was quite brilliant." The greasy traitor bowed his head before the evil old man. "I confess I was surprised to see that you dedicated your research to Regulus Black."

 _Perhaps the mad half-breed is not a traitor after all?_ _Mistress approved of him, the beggar Prince, and Kreacher can see how he hates the vile blood traitor scum._ _And if he is still loyal to Master Regulus . . . ._

"Merely fulfilling an old promise," the beggar Prince replied.

 _Perhaps the beggar Prince would help Kreacher fulfill his own promise to Master Regulus?_ _Kreacher will have to wait until he is alone . . . ._

-DVDVDV-

One of the very few advantages to being a double agent, Severus reflected, was hearing the intelligence of both sides. Between the Dark Lord's interest in the Hall of Prophecies and the Order's reports, he had an excellent idea of the layout and security, despite never having been there himself. He was fairly confident he could break in, so he focused on his disguise.

Another great advantage to being a double agent is paranoia. Thus, at 2 o'clock in the morning, Severus carefully transfigured his features. His distinctive large, hooked nose became smaller and straighter, his thin lips fuller. His black eyes turned blue, his black hair brown. He added a close-cropped beard and looked in the mirror. Good, he was unrecognizable as himself.

Then, he drank polyjuice, turning into a blond Dutch muggle who was about his height. The muggle was slightly broader than Severus, but not enough that their differences in build would make movement awkward. _Never risk a fight in a wholly alien body._ Next, he cast a glamour over himself, slightly changing the muggle's appearance. The blond hair became slightly darker, the cheekbones slightly less pronounced.

He transfigured his distinctive black robes into a dull brown, with no buttons. He put on a pair of supple dragonhide gloves.

Disguise complete, he disillusioned himself and apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

As expected, no one was there to man the front desk at this hour. He quietly walked to the lift and pressed the button with one gloved finger.

"Level Nine: Department of Mysteries," a cool female voice sounded as the lift arrived.

Severus walked down the bare, black-tiled hall to the plain black door where he knew Hestia Jones sat, invisible, guarding the entryway on behalf of the Order. He sent a nonverbal _confundus_ her way. She did not notice as the door opened behind her, nor did she register Severus silently slipping past her inside.

The door closed behind him, and the walls rotated. Severus looked around the circular room at the dozen identical, handleless doors. He reached out towards each door, careful not to touch any of them. He felt heat radiating from the third door to his right. _The Love Chamber._ _The Time Chamber will be two over, then._ He put his gloved hands to the door, and it opened at his touch, revealing a long, rectangular room filled with bright light that sparkled like gems. The room was filled with clocks of all descriptions. Dozens of time turners lay on a far table. Severus's fingers twitched reflexively. He itched to steal one. _How much easier would my life be if I had a few extra hours each day . . . ._

A middle-aged Unspeakable entered the room from the door at the end of the hall, which Severus knew led to the Hall of Prophecies. She sat at the time turner table and began waving her wand over them. _Damn, so much for that._ Confunding Hestia Jones – whose capabilities he was familiar with – was far less risky than confunding an unfamiliar witch from the Department of Mysteries.

He glanced at the door from which the Unspeakable had entered. She had left it ajar. _Can I fit through without jostling it?_ He quietly snuck toward the door and studied the opening. If he were in his own body, it would not be an issue, but the muggle whose hair he had stolen was broader than he was. He decided to wait until either the Unspeakable left or the polyjuice wore off.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait long. After about ten minutes, another Unspeakable entered the room from the Hall of Prophecies. Severus slipped through before the second ministry worker closed the door.

The Hall of Prophecies was huge. Rows and rows of shelves filled the room, with hundreds of small, dusty orbs on each. He looked around for other Unspeakables, but saw none. _Good._ _Bad enough there are two working here at this time of night._

Severus knew the prophecies were organized by date made. Dumbledore had questioned him about the half-blood prince less than a month ago, so the orb he was looking for should be near the end, with the most recent prophecies.

His guess was correct. The very last orb on the last row was labelled "S.P.T. to M.G.M. Unknown, Dark Lord, Gellert Grindlewald (?) / Albus Dumbledore (?)." Severus raised an invisible eyebrow at seeing Grindlewald listed. He cast a silent _muffliato_ , and then reached out and took the prophecy.

The orb glowed as soon he touched it. For the second time in his life, he heard Sybill Trelawney's harsh voice speak a true prophecy.

 _The choice of the half-blood prince will determine the course of the war._ _Desired by the Dark Lord, ignored by the greater good, their trust will be paid in kind._ _The choice of the half-blood prince will determine the course of the war._

Severus removed his spare wand - he had no desire to risk his official wand's signature showing up here – and disintegrated the orb with a silent _reducto_. He then vanished the ashes. Looking at the label on the shelf, he carefully vanished it, too.

Looking around and still seeing no one, he cancelled the _muffliato_ and disapparated. He had much to think about.

A/N:

In case it wasn't clear, Severus could not apparate to the Hall of Prophecies directly because he had never been there before. In OotP, the Order members apparate to the Veil room, so I'm assuming that the Department of Mysteries doesn't have anti-apparation wards, which is why he was able to disapparate out.

Also, as I said in my notes to Chapter 7, this is not going to be a romance. So, to head questions off:

This fic goes AU only after GoF. Severus fell in love with Lily before the series even started. Therefore, it still happened.

That said, Remus is telling the truth as he knows it. Whether the Order jumped to the right conclusions . . . well, you'll need to keep reading.

Please review!


	11. Chapter 11

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 11**

Brewing always helped Severus anchor his thoughts. Divulging what he knew of Trelawney's first prophecy had cost Lily her life. The Dark Lord had spent over a decade as a specter for acting on a prophecy without fully considering it. Severus needed to reflect very carefully before he sought to fulfill or disprove the prophecy one way or the other.

 _My choice will decide the course of the war._ _But will my choice bring victory or defeat?_ _The Dark Lord sought to kill Potter to remove the threat he posed, yet in doing so only destroyed himself._

Severus added the diced lacewing flies to the simmering light blue liquid and stirred twice clockwise. The potion immediately turned a dark teal. Severus jotted down his observations in a small leather notebook, and then carefully ladled the mixture into an empty bottle and then added a label – "Prince's Kiss, v. 207." _Perhaps it will prove more efficacious than the last batch._ The thought lacked conviction. He had been working on perfecting this potion for over twenty years, and his best efforts still only resulted in an imperfect treatment, not a cure.

After cleaning his work area, he went upstairs to his small sitting room. Scanning the bookshelves, he selected Heinrich der Braun's _Die Alte Hexe_. The prisoner had suggested he read some of it aloud. Now was as good a time as any. Perhaps it would help clear his troubled thoughts.

Selecting the first poem, he recited in German:

 **"** **For all the fate that falls to wizardkind,  
I encompass within my deepest self.  
I epitomize the highest and the lowest,  
to load both woe and bliss upon my heart,  
and thus extend beyond my single self,  
and in the end fall with all the rest."** *

Nothing happened. Severus tried reading six more poems, but he still failed to discern any "literal magic of poetry." He returned the book to its shelf and selected a slim, tattered volume he had purchased in Aachen, **_Slaying the Unslayable._** He settled in an overstuffed armchair and began to read.

He had just begun Chapter 5 (" **Exorcism Rituals: Banishing Unwanted Phantasms** "), when there was a flash of flame, and the phoenix appeared in front of him.

"Speak of the devil and he appears," Severus muttered.

 _"_ _You were thinking about me?"_ The phoenix seemed pleased, until Severus gestured to his book. _"_ _I hate it when you try to kill me."_

"And I hate it when you visit me, but does that stop you?"

 _"_ _I have to visit you – you're my absolute favorite human."_ The phoenix settled on the chair's armrest.

"Given I am one of only two humans who can see you, and given the other has been trapped in a cell for decades, your statement means remarkably little."

 _"_ _At least he's always happy to see me."_

"As I said, he has been trapped in a cell for decades. Nor do I believe he is allowed visitors. Hence the reason you were supposed to be keeping him company, rather than pestering me."

 _"_ _He said that you might need my moral support."_

Severus snorted. "Unlikely." He paused, then added, "You are my boggart."

The phoenix stared at him, incredulous. _"_ _You have deep-seated psychological issues."_

"Weren't you supposed to be 'moral support?'" Severus muttered.

 _"_ _I changed my mind._ _I'm obviously too intimidating._ _Shouldn't you be cowering before me?"_

"I am delighted you find the situation amusing."

 _"_ _Well, it is a bit ridikkulus."_ Severus rolled his eyes. _"_ _Where did you see a boggart, anyway?"_

"Black." Severus's voice dripped with loathing. "The Order was quite perturbed by the whole situation."

The phoenix laughed again. _"_ _They now think you're an unrepentant Death Eater terrified of their merry band?"_

"Yes, it is a subtle shift from their usual assumption."

 _"_ _That you are an unrepentant Death Eater contemptuous of their merry band?"_

"Exactly."

The phoenix considered him in silence. Severus returned to his book. _"_ _Something happened,"_ the phoenix said at last.

"Be more specific. Things happen all the time," Severus replied. He did not look up from his reading.

 _"_ _You did something interesting, didn't you?"_ the phoenix accused. _"_ _Without me."_

"The Potions Masters Symposium was quite stimulating, yes." The phoenix bit Severus's finger. Severus backhanded him. The phoenix flew up to regain his balance, and then settled back on the chair's armrest.

 _"_ _What did you do?"_ the phoenix repeated.

Severus sighed. "I visited the Hall of Prophecies at the Department of Mysteries."

 _"_ _I leave you alone for a few days, and you go off and have fun without me,"_ the phoenix whined. _"_ _Why go there?"_

Severus hesitated. _Was this wise?_ _But then, the blasted thing can hardly do any harm with the knowledge._ _And perhaps reviewing it aloud will make my course clearer._ He briefly summarized Dumbledore's inquiry about a "half-blood prince" and his realization that there was a prophecy. He recited it to the phoenix.

 _"_ _So, do you think it means Grindlewald or the phoenix-bonded?"_

"Have you noticed Grindlewald ignoring me recently?"

 _"_ _You make a good point._ _So what are you going to do?"_

"Finish reading my book." The phoenix nipped his hand again, then quickly flew up so Severus could not reach him. "Enough! Go back to the old man, tell him that his anti-muggle bias is showing. Goethe's language is far superior to Heinrich der Braun's. And ask for details about the Veselin ritual – none of my books mention it."

 _"_ _Promise you won't do anything fun without me."_

"Your definition of 'fun' leaves much to be desired."

 _"_ _Promise me."_

Severus scowled. "I can make no promises. You know that my life is not my own." _I will not sign my freedom away again, never again._ _Not to you, hellspawn, not to anyone._

The phoenix stared at him before vanishing.

-DVDVDV-

At Severus's knock, Tonks opened the door to Grimmauld Place. She smiled brightly when she saw him. He sneered in response.

"Is Lupin here?" he demanded.

"Wotcha, Professor. He's inside." She moved aside so he could enter, but he remained on the porch. His Dark Mark was burning. He swiftly handed Tonks a bottle.

"This is wolfsbane . Give it to the wolf and instruct him to drink it directly. Do _not_ spill any." As soon as she took the bottle, he removed his Death Eater mask and robes from a pocket and swiftly put them on. He ignored her spluttered questions and disapparated.

-DVDVDV-

An hour later, Severus stood, disillusioned, outside the Grangers' house, listening as screams emanated from inside. The Order was nowhere in sight.

A swig of polyjuice and a hasty transfiguration of his robes later, "Sirius Black" blasted in the door.

A/N:

* The poem from "Heinrich der Braun" was lifted (with slight modifications) from Goethe's _Faust – Part One._ The actual quote is (translated from the German):

"Whatever is the lot of humankind  
I want to taste within my deepest self.  
I want to seize the highest and the lowest,  
to load its woe and bliss upon my breast,  
and thus expand my single self titanically  
and in the end go down with all the rest."

Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 12**

Hermione Granger was reading her fifth year Arithmancy textbook in her bedroom when the screaming started. Dropping the book, she ran downstairs.

"Mum? Dad?" she called as she raced down. The only reply was more screams. The sound was coming from the kitchen. _Oh, God, are they okay?_ _Did Mum hurt herself while cooking?_

She turned a corner in the hall, then froze when she saw three men wearing hooded black cloaks over black robes. From her angle, she could see that one was wearing a silver mask. She could guess that the others were as well. _Death Eaters._

She had left her wand in her trunk.

Quietly, hating herself for abandoning her parents, she began to turn around and sneak back upstairs. _I need to get my wand._ _I can't help them without my wand._ _Why didn't I keep in on me?_ _I always have it on me at school!_ But she wasn't allowed to use magic over the summer holidays, and she had been too afraid of using her wand automatically, through habit, if she kept in on her. _I am such a fool!_

One of the Death Eaters saw her. "Hold," he said, in cool, cultured tones. The voice seemed vaguely familiar. The screaming stopped. Hermione tried to back away slowly. "Stop that. We have no wish to harm you, should you cooperate with us."

"My – my parents?" Hermione asked. She hated how small and scared her voice sounded.

"They chose not to cooperate. But, should you come with us, I can promise that they shall not be harmed further."

"No! No, Hermione, run!" That was her father's voice, ragged from screaming.

One of the other Death Eaters spat, "Crucio!" Her father began screaming again.

"Dad!"

The Death Eater who had been speaking to her sighed. " _Petrificus totalus_ ," he said lazily. Hermione's limbs froze together in a full body-bind, and she toppled over. "Enough of that," the man said to his colleagues. "Our mission is complete. Leave the muggles. Just take the mudblood and go."

The door burst open.

From her position on the floor, Hermione could only watch, astounded, as Sirius Black ran in and engaged three Death Eaters in a furious duel. _How did he know to come here?_ _Are others on their way?_

" _Stupefy_!" Sirius roared, and one of the Death Eaters fell.

She heard – but could not see – one of the other Death Eaters cast a killing curse. Sirius must have dodged, though, since she could hear his distinctive bark of laughter. "Have to do better than that," he taunted.

" _Reducto_!"

She heard something shatter in the kitchen. It was terrifying, not being able to move, only able to see what was directly in front of her. _Are my parents alright?_ _Are they still alive?_

" _Stupefy!_ " That was Sirius again. _Good, that's good._

A Death Eater flew out of the kitchen – no, was thrown out. He crumpled heavily on the floor. " _Petrificus totalus_ ," Sirius cast. The Death Eater's limbs locked, and he fell still. " _Finite incantatum_." Hermione could move again.

"Sirius! Are my parents –"

"They're fine, Hermione, or they will be. Go get your things – essentials only, we don't have much time. We need to be gone in five minutes."

"How did you know –"

"We, the Order that is, have been taking it in shifts guarding you. Didn't you notice the new stray in your neighborhood?" Hermione hadn't. _And what's the Order?_ "Now go! I'll take care of this lot." Sirius grinned. Hermione knew she would normally have objected, but . . . _They deserve whatever they get._ She ran to the kitchen, and saw that her parents were on the floor, unconscious. They were still breathing, though, and didn't seem to be wounded anywhere. She wanted to stay with them, but instead ran upstairs to collect her school things. _And my wand._

Two minutes later, she had dragged her trunk downstairs and checked the kitchen again. The three Death Eaters were lying next to one another in a crumpled row on the floor of the room, their masks tossed to one side. Hermione recognized the one in the middle as Lucius Malfoy. _He was the one who spoke with me._ _I_ thought _I'd recognized that voice!_ She did not know the other two. Crookshanks sat atop the one on the far left, hissing. From his build, she realized that this was the one who had tortured her father.

The Death Eaters all seemed to be conscious, but thick black ropes ( _Conjured?_ Hermione thought) restrained them, preventing movement. Sirius stood over them.

"So, where is your master hiding?" Sirius asked. None of the Death Eaters answered. "No? Well, perhaps this will change your mind." Sirius stood, and took a large knife from next to the sink. He bent down, and held it in front of the Death Eater on the right. "Well?"

The Death Eater spat at him. In immediate response, Sirius deftly slashed the man's throat. Blood spurted out. Hermione shrieked.

"You should not watch this, Hermione. It might get . . . messy." Sirius smiled, and Hermione was reminded of the days when she had thought him to be deranged mass murderer bent on killing Harry.

"I should . . . I should see to Crookshanks." She grabbed her cat and fled the room. From inside, she could hear Sirius say, "How about you, Stebbins? Care to join your little friend?"

"I – I don't know! He summons us and we just appear!" The Death Eater – Stebbins – sounded terrified.

"Pity. You're no use, then." There was a shriek, and then more silence. Hermione felt sick.

"And finally, we come to you, Lucius. What _was_ my cousin thinking, marrying you?" Hermione could not make out Malfoy's response, but Sirius laughed again. "I'd really love to kill you, you know? Pity about Cissy. Guess you get to live."

There was a brief scream from the kitchen, and then Sirius emerged, wand out and levitating her parents in front of him. Hermione was reminded of the Shrieking Shack in her third year, when Sirius had levitated an unconscious Professor Snape. She was surprised to see no blood on him.

"You have everything, Hermione?" She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Great." With a wave of his wand, he shrank her trunk and put it in a pocket. He then cast what she recognized as a disillusionment charm. Soon, all of them – including Crookshanks – were invisible. She yelped as she felt him grab her arm.

There was a terrible sensation of being pushed through a too-small tube, and then suddenly they were outside on an unfamiliar street. _We just apparated._ Sirius released her. "Wait here," she heard him say.

-DVDVDV-

Nymphadora Tonks opened the door and saw Sirius standing outside. She blinked. _How'd he get here?_ _I just saw him inside a minute ago._

"Sirius?" she asked, incredulous.

"Snape. I had to polyjuice as the mutt," the doppelganger snapped. "Is the headmaster here?"

"Er, can you prove it?"

He glared at her. "The fact that I can see the _fidelius_ -protected headquarters is not sufficient?"

"Sorry, Professor, constant vigilance and all. I need to ask you a security question."

"Fine," he spat. "Ask."

"Who's your boyfriend?" Tonks blurted, and then flushed.

"I beg your pardon?" Even in Sirius's body, he radiated menace. _He can't kill me, I'm an auror._ _Then again, he's a Death Eater . . . ._

"Er, nothing, Professor."

"You. Will. Explain." _Well, that_ is _how I'd expect the professor to react, so... maybe I won't push it._

 _Damn it!_ She felt like she had as a terrified first year being confronted by her evil potions master for sneaking out after curfew. "Well, we have a bit of a wager going – I have five galleons down for Malfoy –"

"You will bring me the list of everyone involved in this, and you will bring it to me now. You will then find the headmaster or someone else who can let the Grangers in here." _How does he get Sirius's voice to sound that menacing?_

"What?" _The Grangers are here?_ _But Mundungus was supposed to be guarding them . . . ._

"The Death Eaters attacked the Granger house. I have them here." Tonks started. She glanced around, trying to spot them. "Disillusioned," he added, as if she were an idiot.

"Are they alright? Is Dung hurt?"

"The Grangers will recover. I have no knowledge of Fletcher – he is either incapacitated or will be should I discover he deserted his post. Now, again, where is the headmaster?"

"He's off dealing with the ICW. Won't be back for a few days." Snape cursed. Despite everything, Tonks raised her eyebrows appreciatively. She'd never heard her former professor curse before. _Which is surprising, come to think on it._ _He seems like he'd be the type._

"Who else is present? They need to stay _somewhere_ until the headmaster returns and can allow them access to this pit."

"Just me, Sirius, and the Weasleys."

Snape cursed again. "Fine," he spat. "Fetch me the list of wagers, and then get out of my sight."

Tonks hurried inside. The twins did not want to surrender their notebook, but she was an auror and knew many subtle methods to make unwilling people hand over information. "I can tell Professor Snape or I can tell your mum, your choice," she said. They handed it over. She, in turn, took it to the still-polyjuiced professor. He glanced at it, and then snorted derisively before pocketing it.

"Tell Shacklebolt to investigate the Black sighting in Kent – if he hurries, he should find two dead Death Eaters." _Wait, what?_ "Perhaps the Ministry will believe then that the Dark Lord has returned."

Before Tonks could ask for details, Snape had disillusioned himself. A few seconds later, she heard the telltale _crack_ of apparation, and knew he was gone.

A/N: Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 13**

It was the worst day of Hermione Granger's life. Death Eaters had attacked her family. Sirius Black had appeared just in time, killed at least one of them in front of her, and then took her and her parents to a nice, quiet street containing a row of townhouses. Not ten minutes later, he turned around and brought them to a . . . well, a dump seemed rather harsh, but in all honesty, she felt the whole neighborhood ought to be condemned. Half the homes were boarded up, and she could see needles and . . . other things in the rubbish lining the streets. In the distance, she could see a factory that looked long-since abandoned. The nearby river was brown with pollution, and the air reeked of decay. _Was this Knockturn Alley?_ Harry hadn't mentioned seeing a river or a factory there, though, and the few people nearby looked like muggles.

Sirius guided her – and she assumed her similarly disillusioned parents – as if he were very familiar with the area. After a few minutes, they came to the last house on the lane. It looked to be in slightly better repair than the ones near it, but the paint was peeling and weeds littered the small lawn. Sirius released her, and she caught the faint shimmer of the disillusionment charm as he moved to open the door.

"Inside," he hissed. As soon as she complied, he closed the door behind her and cancelled the disillusionment.

Hermione found herself in a small, dingy sitting room that held two faded, overstuffed armchairs, several packed bookcases, and nothing else. _A safe house_ , she realized. Her parents were now each sitting in an armchair, although they still seemed unconscious.

"Sirius, what –" she began, but he raised a hand to cut her off.

" _Finite supremum_ ," he said. Hermione felt her eyes widen. _Why did he need the most powerful of the general cancellation spells?_ Her question was answered almost instantly, as Sirius's features morphed into those of Professor Snape. The blue robes turned black, and now sported dozens of tiny buttons.

"P-professor Snape?" she asked.

"Obviously," he snapped. "What happened before I arrived?"

It took a moment for her brain to switch gears. _Is this what shock feels like?_ "I'm not sure, Professor. I was reading in my room, and then I heard screaming coming from downstairs. I ran down, and they were – they were torturing them!" She burst into tears. To her surprise, Snape reached into a pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. He handed it to her. She took it gratefully. "Will my parents be alright, Professor?"

"Most likely. I do not believe they were tortured for very long. I will tend to them momentarily. For now . . ." he paused, and then sighed. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby offer Hermione Jean Granger and her household bread and salt, hearth and roof. Do you accept _Salvatio Refugium_?"

Hermione started. She recognized the ritual words offering guest welcome and protection. Earlier this summer, Viktor Krum's father had presented her with a much more expansive version, signifying his willingness to consider her as a potential future daughter-in-law. Professor Snape's form of guest welcome was much more restricted, the promise of temporary shelter and cessation of hostilities for the duration of her stay and no longer.

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, accept your offer of _Salvatio Refugium_ on behalf of myself and my household," she replied formally, swallowing her questions. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape nodded curtly. "Unfortunately, you will likely need to remain here for several days until alternative accommodations can be arranged. The kitchen is through this door. I recommend you avoid anything labeled 'Sample.'" Snape smirked. He then waved his wand, and bookcases moved aside to reveal a small staircase leading up, as well as another leading down. "Try and restrain your Gryffindor curiosity and avoid the basement. The wards will likely kill you should you attempt access." She stared, but he seemed utterly serious. _Right, avoid the basement._ "Follow me."

He led Hermione up the staircase, her parents again floating in front of them. At the top was a small landing with three doors leading off it. Snape pointed at a closed door at the end of the hall. "Under no circumstances are you to attempt to access this room. Should you require anything from me, simply knock twice against the door, but do not enter." He pointed at the open door. "That is the washroom."

He led her into the third room, a small library packed with overflowing bookcases. He waved a wand and conjured a triple-decker bunk bed. It barely fit in the confined space. He set her mother on the bottom bunk and her father on the middle bed. "You and your parents will sleep here. Your cat will remain in this room at all times. I know better than to try and restrict you from the volumes here, as you will simply disobey, but avoid any of the warded texts. Some of the tomes here are cursed, and _Salvatio Refugium_ does not extend to requiring me to undo Gryffindor foolishness."

Hermione bit her tongue. She wanted to protest, but she knew that his insults were a small price to pay for saving her and her parents' lives. Instead, she nodded. "Yes, Professor. Thank you, sir, for saving us. Can you wake them yet?"

Snape ignored her. Instead, he removed two unfamiliar potions from a pocket and waved his wand. From seeing Madam Pomfrey treat unconscious patients, Hermione recognized that he was spelling the potions into her parents. He then opened her mother's eyes and stared into them for several long minutes, before climbing to the middle bunk and repeating the process with her father.

"Sir?" Hermione asked, once he seemed to have finished.

"They will recover, Miss Granger. I have given them potions to treat the effects of the _cruciatus_. They are fortunate that they were held under the curse for a relatively short interval." It hadn't seemed short to Hermione, but she nodded gratefully. "I have also eased their memory of the incident. They will recall what transpired, but the emotional resonance will be lessened. That should mitigate potential long-term psychological damage." _That must have been what the staring was about_ , Hermione thought.

"They should awaken naturally within 20 to 30 hours," Snape continued. "Until then, do not attempt to rouse them."

"Thank you, sir," she repeated. "Sir, I have some questions about what happened –"

"You can ask Headmaster Dumbledore once he returns from his duties abroad. I have no inclination to answer them." He took her shrunken trunk from his pocket and restored it to its normal size, and then left the library. Hermione could hear him walk down the rickety steps. Shrugging, for he had been remarkably civil for Snape, she began to examine the bookcases.

-DVDVDV-

Three hours later, Hermione was sitting in one of the sitting room's armchairs, happily engrossed in _The Phoenix and the Flame_ and trying to ignore the notes scrawled in the margins. _Maybe others used this safe house as well?_ She had trouble seeing Professor Snape reading something like this, nor could she picture him writing notes in the margins. _Essays, yes, but surely the professor has more respect for books._ _Besides, everything here is so disorganized._ _Who would mix dark arts texts on demonology with muggle psychiatry books and guides to magical creatures?_

Suddenly, one of the bookcases moved aside, and Professor Snape appeared. Hermione started. He pointed his wand at her, and suddenly she shrank. She tried to scream, but only a faint _hoot_ came out. She looked at herself, and began to panic. _He turned me into an owl!?_ _What if I can't change back?_ She flapped her wings, terrified, and nearly toppled over, barely managing to stay upright.

"Apologies, Miss Granger," Snape said softly. To her surprise, he appeared to mean it. "Someone is coming. I cannot risk you being seen here. I will release it once I am able. Should I become incapacitated, the spell will wear off on its own within an hour." Hermione calmed. She remembered the false Professor Moody turning Draco Malfoy into a ferret. He was soon restored into a human. _I will be fine._ _Professor Snape saved me._ _He'll turn me back._

Snape glanced at the book she had been reading, and then swiftly returned it to its shelf. He seemed to realize her difficulty moving in her new form, and lifted her gently and placed her on a shelf as well. Moments later, there was a knocking on the door. Snape strode over and opened it.

A bruised and bloodied Lucius Malfoy nearly collapsed in his arms.

A/N: Please review.


	14. Chapter 14

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 14**

Hermione watched as Professor Snape gently eased Lucius Malfoy into the empty armchair in the sitting room and began a series of what Hermione recognized as diagnostic charms. _What is Malfoy doing here? We're supposed to be safe!_ She struggled to remain calm. _Malfoy is hurt._ _He might not know I'm here._

"Severus," Malfoy rasped, his normally smooth tones ragged with pain.

"Am I permitted to heal you?" Snape asked softly. _Permitted?_ _Why would the professor need permission?_

"Yes."

Immediately, Snape cast a blood clotting spell, a bone-mending charm, and two other spells that Hermione did not recognize but memorized as being worth future study. He then pulled three potions out of a pocket ( _He must have an undetectable extension charm on it_ , Hermione realized), and handed them to Malfoy, who quickly drank their contents. Soon, Malfoy's color began to improve, although his face and clothes were still streaked with blood.

"I take it the raid did not go as planned?" Snape asked sardonically, taking a seat in the vacant armchair.

"Your skill at observation is unparalleled. I can see why the Dark Lord made you his spy." To Hermione's surprise, her professor chuckled drily.

"But yes, it was an utter disaster," Malfoy continued. "Black showed up almost immediately, rescued the mudblood and her parents. He killed Stebbins and Reynolds – slit their throats. Not that they didn't deserve it. Can you believe Black was hiding as a stray mutt the whole bloody time they were watching the house? Utterly incompetent. The Dark Lord was not pleased by our failure, as you can see." He gestured at himself.

"And so you came here," Snape remarked drily.

"Well, I could hardly go to St. Mungo's." Malfoy glanced down at himself and grimaced. Hermione stifled a shudder as he drew his wand, but it was only to cast a quick cleaning charm. The blood vanished from his face and robes. "I expect he'll summon you later," he added. Hermione was surprised to hear a faint trace of concern in the man's voice.

Snape nodded. "Most likely."

Hermione watched, fascinated, as the two men fell into a companionable silence. Finally, Lucius Malfoy broke it by laughing. "You are a terrible host, my friend." Snape raised an eyebrow as Malfoy rose and went to the kitchen. "Let's see if you have anything worth drinking in this pathetic excuse you call a house."

"Top shelf in the cupboard to the far right," Snape called, not bothering to follow him. _How can Professor Snape be so at ease?_ _Malfoy tried to kidnap me!_ _He helped torture my parents!_

Malfoy returned a minute later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured a deep red liquid into each, and handed one to Snape. Malfoy swirled his glass, sniffed it, and then took a small sip. "An excellent vintage. My compliments."

 _Wait, this is Snape's house?_

-DVDVDV-

With a laugh, Lucius Malfoy broke the companionable silence. "You are a terrible host, my friend." Severus raised an eyebrow as he rose and went to the kitchen. "Let's see if you have anything worth drinking in this pathetic excuse you call a house."

"Top shelf in the cupboard to the far right," Severus called, not bothering to follow him. Lucius quickly found a bottle of elf-made wine on the top shelf, and then rummaged around the tiny kitchen to find two glasses. _Oh, Severus, why do you insist of living here?_ _You deserve better than this muggle dunghill._ _Narcissa and I would be thrilled to let you stay at the manor, or even set you up with a cottage somewhere if such is your preference._

Lucius returned a minute later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured a deep red liquid into each, and handed one to Severus. Lucius swirled his glass, sniffed it, and then took a small sip. "An excellent vintage. My compliments."

"It should be," Severus replied, sounding faintly amused. "You gave me the bottle."

Lucius considered this for a moment. "That would have been, what, four years ago? And the yet bottle has barely been touched," he chastised.

Severus shrugged slightly. "I am merely a social drinker, as you know." He sipped his wine.

Lucius snorted. "You are the least social person I know."

"And thus the mystery of the untouched bottle is solved." Lucius chuckled.

Silence fell again. Lucius then caught sight of an owl perched on one of the shelves. "A new pet?" He nodded in its direction. _I thought you gave up on pets after Mister Norris experienced a "tragic accident" upon being introduced to your late, unlamented father._

"Hardly. I am simply to keep the wretched beast alive for a fortnight. The headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, believes that caring for an animal will awaken my dormant compassion and empathy."

Lucius chuckled. "You have my most sincere sympathies." He raised his glass in a toast. "To the loyal opposition. May they act as _confunded_ as they appear." Severus raised his glass, and both sipped their wine.

"Speaking of whom, how is the Order faring these days?" Lucius asked.

"They are a runespoor missing the right head – able to plan and dream, but lacking any ability to think critically. _Confunded_ does not begin to describe the magnitude of their incompetence."

Lucius chuckled. "That bad?"

"They gave two-to-one odds that you and I are engaged in a sordid affair," Severus replied drily.

Lucius made an exaggerated show of eying his friend's long, lean body. "Severus, you are a dear friend, but even with all the _felix felicis_ in the world, you wouldn't get that lucky." _And anyone who bothered to spend five minutes with you should realize that this armchair has more interest in sex than you do._

"Quite."

Lucius laughed, and Severus's lips twitched into a small, crooked smile. "Truly, though, with intelligence like that on their side, why have we yet to win the war?"

"Fortune favors the fool," Severus replied drily.

"And smiles on the brave. Thus is Gryffindor House protected," Lucius finished. He chuckled again. "Mind if I tell Narcissa about our supposed affair?" _Merlin, but she needs a good excuse to laugh these days._

"I have no objection, provided she does not take it as another excuse to try matchmaking." _Draco has brought so much joy to our lives._ _Narcissa just wants the same for you._

"Well, it might lead to a rise in dashing blond men being coincidentally invited to tea whenever you come to the manor." Lucius chuckled at Severus's glare. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "She just wants you to be happy, Severus. You are, after all, a young and powerful wizard. Countless witches would be delighted to marry you."

Snape snorted. "Lucius, I am an ugly, antisocial workaholic."

"True, but when we met, you were an ugly, antisocial, _impoverished_ workaholic. Your star is rising, my friend."

"Lucius –"

"Fine, fine. I will impress upon Narcissa your continued desire to remain unloved and alone. That said, will you be able to come over to the manor for dinner next week?"

"Of course."

Lucius smiled. "Excellent. As a warning, Narcissa will want to discuss possible potions apprenticeships for Draco with you." Lucius saw that Severus recognized the implicit question. Even here, safe from eavesdroppers, he could not risk asking directly. _Will you protect Draco?_

Severus paused, and then said slowly, "Draco lacks the intuitive grasp necessary to become a master of the art, although he certainly has the skill required to become a certified brewer. I believe that he would be better suited to focusing on his runic studies. Professor Babbling speaks quite highly of his abilities in her class, and, judging by the enhancements he added to the wards in his dormitory, he has the capacity to apply his knowledge creatively."

Lucius was silent for a moment, before commenting, "All of the best runic programs are based in Egypt." _Studying ancient runes will get him out of the country, away from the Dark Lord and the pending war._

"And there is always a need for well-trained warders and ward-breakers." _You can pitch this to the Dark Lord as sacrificing a decent duelist in the present for an exceptional curse-breaker in the future_ , Lucius translated.

Lucius nodded. "I believe that your suggestion has merit, and will raise it with Narcissa and Draco. Thank you, Severus." _You may have saved my son._ Snape inclined his head. "And now, I really should return home. Narcissa will be worried." _She does not know if I survived the summons_.

-DVDVDV-

Severus watched Lucius leave Spinners End. _I will do whatever is in my power to save you, Lucius._ _You are my friend, the last of my friends._ _All of the others are dead._ _I will protect you and yours._

 _You have my word._

A/N: Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 15**

Hermione had tried to sleep, but her mind was too jumbled to rest. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. _Professor Snape, who always seemed to hate me, saved my family._ _He killed two of the Death Eaters who were there as if it was nothing._ _He probably hurt Lucius Malfoy, or at least got him tortured by You-Know-Who, but then healed his wounds later._ _He's a pureblood and Head of Slytherin, the most aristocratic house at Hogwarts, but he lives in a neglected house in a bad muggle neighborhood._

Hermione put on a dressing gown over her pajamas, and then quietly made her way downstairs, not wanting to disturb her professor. She hadn't seen him since shortly after Malfoy left. He had restored her to human form as promised, but then gone back down to the basement. She wasn't sure if he was still down there, or if he had gone up to bed, as it was by now a little after midnight.

As she neared the sitting room, she heard the familiar _crack_ of apparation. She froze. _Is that Professor Snape or someone else?_

She heard the professor's voice hiss, " _Avada Kedavra_!" There was a flash of green light from the kitchen. She quickly drew her wand from her dressing gown. _Did someone follow him back?_ _But how could someone else apparate here?_ _Or do the wards allow only a few people to come directly, and anyone else has to walk?_

There was silence for a few seconds. She tiptoed to get a better view, and saw a Death Eater standing alone in the kitchen. Then the man removed his mask, and she realized it was Professor Snape. _He's a_ spy, she reminded herself, trying to calm her breathing. She could not see anyone else. _He had to have cast the killing curse at someone, though._

Snape snarled, "Will you be silent?" _He doesn't mean me, does he?_ "Surely, it is enough to have suffered through the Dark Lord's ire. Must I be subjected to your infernal wittering as well? Are you actively seeking my demise?"

Hermione looked around, but did not see anyone else. _Perhaps someone else is here, but invisible?_ She realized that Snape was bleeding.

After a moment, the wounds healed, although Hermione could not see how that had happened. No one had cast a spell, and the professor hadn't drunk any potions that she could see.

"Next time, avoid berating me in his presence. My reduced concentration did not facilitate matters."

Pause.

"I swore an oath. I will honor it."

Pause. None of this made any sense. Hermione knew that she was only hearing half of a conversation, but there was no one else speaking.

"Those are ones that matter most."

Another brief pause. _Who is he talking to?_

"At last we agree upon something."

Again, a pause. Hermione finally decided that standing here was not the best course of action. Professor Snape no longer seemed to be hurt, and he would not appreciate her eavesdropping. She would just go back upstairs and –

-DVDVDV-

The summons, when it came, had been a bad one.

The Dark Lord was, predictably, still furious that Granger had escaped. For all that Lucius had borne the brunt of his fury for the failed raid, Severus, as Voldemort's spy, did not emerge unscathed. Nor was Severus's cause helped by the appearance of the phoenix mid-way through the meeting. The benighted bird ranted about Severus "running off and vanquishing foes" without inviting him along, even as the Dark Lord legilimized him, seeking foreknowledge of the Grangers' defenses.

Severus apparated back to the kitchen in Spinners End shortly after midnight, bleeding but not broken, nursing a migraine and wishing – not for the first or even the hundredth time – that he knew a way to kill a phoenix.

He could, at least, mildly inconvenience one. " _Avada Kedavra_!" he spat. Green light shot out of his wand, hitting the great red and gold creature. There was a flash of fire, and the phoenix reemerged as a tiny, ugly chick.

 _"_ _I hate it when you do that!"_ Even the phoenix's mental voice sounded younger.

"Will you be silent?" snarled Severus, removing his Death Eater mask. "Surely, it is enough to have suffered through the Dark Lord's ire. Must I be subjected to your infernal wittering as well? Are you actively seeking my demise?"

 _"_ _No, of course not._ _In fact, I think you should avoid future summons._ _They do terrible things to your health."_ The chick flew to him and wept. The wounds healed, and Severus felt his headache recede.

"Next time, avoid berating me in his presence. My reduced concentration did not facilitate matters."

 _"_ _Don't go back."_

"I swore an oath. I will honor it."

 _"_ _Promises to the dead."_

"Those are ones that matter most."

 _"_ _You are insane."_

"At last we agree upon something."

 _"_ _The dead are dead._ _You are alive._ _That matters more."_

"Just –" There was a creak in the floorboard. Severus swiftly turned and saw Granger, chalk white and shaking. _Merlin, how much did she witness?_ "Granger. Sit." He pointed at the sole chair in the kitchen. Looking extremely apprehensive, she hurried over and sat. "Explain."

"I was having trouble sleeping, sir, and came down to read some more. I heard you apparate and cast – and cast the killing curse . . . ." Her voice trailed off. Beyond her obvious fear, he could sense her condemnation. _Murderer._ "Sir, who – who was it?"

"No one who need concern you, Miss Granger," he replied smoothly. "Now, return to your bed."

"Please, sir, I need to know." Severus scowled. _Of course you do._ _Bloody know-it-all._ "I mean, I didn't see or hear anyone else, and –"

 _"_ _She thinks you're delusional,"_ the phoenix chick noted. _That would be because I am delusional._ _Still, it would be problematic should that fact become public knowledge._

"Miss Granger, are you familiar with thestrals?"

"Yes, sir. Thestrals are carnivorous, skeletal winged horses that are only visible to wizards who have seen death. They –" She stopped as Severus held up a hand.

"Enough, Miss Granger. A simple 'yes' or' no' would have sufficed. The key point is that certain magical creatures, such as thestrals, can only be perceived by those who meet a predetermined set of criteria. You, obviously, do not meet the criteria necessary to observe the other interloper in my kitchen. That does not, unfortunately, preclude him from being present."

Granger digested this, but still appeared uncertain. "And the killing curse, sir? You cast it before I heard you speaking." _Damn Gryffindors!_ _You never let anything go._ _And damn the_ Salvatio Refugium _._ _She has not broken the truce, so I cannot punish her for her insufferable curiosity._

"Surely you do not believe that Potter is the only creature in existence capable of surviving a killing curse, Miss Granger," Severus replied drily. "Nor, for that matter, are all creatures incapable of _dodging._ "

 _"_ _Excellent misdirection, there."_ The phoenix commented.

Fortunately, Granger seemed to accept that explanation. "Thank you, sir. And, Professor, I'm glad that your – er - interloper was able to heal you."

 _She saw that?_ _Can I risk legilimizing her?_ _No, that might violate the_ Salvatio Refugium _._ "Explain."

Granger flinched. "You were bleeding earlier, and then you suddenly weren't. I didn't see you cast anything, or drink any potions, so I assumed . . ." she trailed off.

 _Granger saw that I was wounded, and she saw that I was healed._ _Yet she agrees that I did nothing._

 _The phoenix wept._ _His tears healed me, not a spell or a potion._ _I did not pour phoenix tears on myself, while projecting them as originating from my delusion._

"It should go without saying that I expect my privacy to be respected. The state of my home is no concern of yours. I will tolerate no snide gossip from your little friends in Gryffindor about my living situation. Now, return to bed, Miss Granger," Severus spoke absently, his thoughts no longer on her.

 _Healing tears._

Granger hurried out of the kitchen. Severus stared at the phoenix chick in front of him.

 _The phoenix is real._

A/N: Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 16**

 **Flashback – Fourteen Years Ago**

Severus Snape had betrayed his lord. He had abandoned a cause he believed in, even if that cause had later been perverted all recognition. He had joined the enemy who hated him and those like him.

It was all for nothing.

Lily Evans – he still could not think of her as a Potter – was dead. His lord had killed her. The old man had failed to protect her. What was the point in selling your soul if the devil never pays his part of the bargain?

And then the devil's rabid dog had killed Evan Rosier. Two friends dead in as many days.

Severus had seen Evan fall, and lashed out at his killer. _Sectumsempra_ had cost the old auror his eye, and those scars would never heal. Hidden behind a mask, the old auror never learned who had cast the spell.

Regulus had died last year. No one knew how. The Death Eaters blamed the Order of the Phoenix; the Order blamed the Dark Lord. They never found the body.

Everything had fallen apart.

But Lily, Lily's death hurt the most. Prince's Kiss would not be enough to save him now, not with her dead. Dead because of him.

Wizards can die of a broken heart.

His mother had, for all that his father had struck the final blow. At sixteen, Severus had learned that he had inherited her condition. Enobarbus Syndrome, the mediwizards called it, so rare in humans. Usually only manifesting in freed house-elves. Heartache so intense that it would leech your magic until you simply faded into a defeated shell. Only Prince's Kiss, the imperfect potion he had invented too late to save his mother, had spared him.

It would have been better had he died.

The headmaster had promised to protect him, praising his work as a spy. "You should be proud, Severus, you saved so many lives. Without you, the Light might have fallen." That only made things worse. It was all for _nothing_.

Severus was a potions master. He could brew thousands of poisons. He had picked the perfect one. It was quick, and painless, and had no known antidote. He wrote his will, leaving all of his meager possessions to the next Slytherin scholarship student. He drank the poison.

The world grew dim. His eyes closed.

He awoke.

There was a phoenix sitting on his chest, weeping. The phoenix tears had healed him.

 _"_ _You will not die, not yet."_ The phoenix spoke in his mind. _"_ _You are an extremely powerful wizard, Severus Snape, and I can feel your true remorse._ _Bond with me._ _There is still good you can do in this world."_

But Severus had bound himself to two masters already, and he had regretted it each time. He refused to bind himself again.

And when the phoenix followed him, he realized that only he could see it. And he knew that he had gone mad.

And when Dumbledore next spoke to him of continued threats, of the Dark Lord weakened but still alive, Severus realized what he must do. _I will avenge you, Lily._ _All those responsible for your death – all of us – will be destroyed._ _I swear it._

 **End Flashback**

 _The phoenix is real_. Severus kept returning to that thought. _How could I have been so mistaken for so long?_ Aloud, he said, "I need to think."

 _"_ _I will wait."_

-DVDVDV-

Severus observed, smug, as Remus Lupin walked stiffly down the hall in Grimmauld Place. _That last batch of wolfsbane causing some joint pains, wolf?_ _This is what happens when you offend the only man in Britain who is both willing and able to brew your potion._

Mad-Eye Moody, Sirius Black, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Molly and Arthur Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall were waiting for them in the kitchen. To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Severus and embraced him. He flinched at the contact.

"Thank you, Severus, thank you for saving Hermione!" she gushed, still clutching his stiffened form.

"Release me," he said curtly. He _hated_ being touched. Mercifully, Mrs. Weasley let him go.

"Indeed, Severus, thank you for your actions in rescuing Miss Granger," McGonagall said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to hear your report. We only received the fairly minimal details you provided Miss Tonks earlier."

"The Dark Lord summoned me to demonstrate some of my recent creations. After about an hour, he summoned Malfoy, Stebbins, and Reynolds. They were assigned to kidnap Granger and bring her to the Dark Lord, who would then use her as bait in a trap for Potter. I was to wait to hear the Order's reaction to the kidnapping before returning to him. We were dismissed.

"I first apparated home, in case I was being followed, and then to the Grangers' house. There were screams emanating from inside, but the Order's _guard_ ," Snape sneered the word, "had not appeared. I polyjuiced myself as the mutt and entered the house. There, I disabled the three Death Eaters, killing Stebbins and Reynolds."

"Murderer," spat Moody.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I stun them and thereby allow them to attack others at a later date? We are soldiers at war." _And your hands are hardly clean, Moody._ _Evan Rosier was only twenty-one when you killed him._

"Except you framed me!" shouted Black.

"A familiar experience for you, I expect." Severus smirked. Black lunged at him, but Severus neatly dodged. He drew his wand and leveled it at Black in a single smooth motion. Black hesitated. "Although I fail to see why it should concern you. After all, the demise of two Death Eaters is considered praiseworthy in most quarters." _Such as here, unless I am the one killing them._

As if his report had not been interrupted, Severus continued, "I spared Malfoy, as I required an alibi." _And because he's my friend._ "I used Black's familial connections as an excuse. Following that, I brought the Grangers here and reported to Miss Tonks. As the _fidelius_ prevents them entry until the headmaster's return, I transported them to my house, where they remain secure. Their injuries were relatively minimal.

"The Dark Lord was highly displeased with the results of the raid. He believes that Miss Granger and her family have already been relocated to the Order's headquarters."

"And you still claim that you haven't revealed its location?" demanded Moody.

"I am not the secret keeper. If I could bypass that security, Miss Granger would be here, not residing in my house," Severus drawled.

"We only have your word for it that she is even still alive!" snapped Moody.

"That is quite enough!" McGonagall glared at Moody. "I am extremely disappointed with you, Alastor. Severus risked him life and his cover to rescue Miss Granger, for which we should all be grateful. There is no call for these baseless accusations." Severus respectfully inclined his head in her direction. "Now, I believe that Kingsley had something to report?"

"Yes," Shacklebolt said in his slow, deep voice. "My team investigated the Black sighting in Kent. We found signs of a struggle at the Granger house, as well as some traces of blood from unknown persons. The corpses had already been removed by the time we arrived. I was able to cover up the fact that this was Miss Granger's residence, so the article in tomorrow's _Prophet_ should simply refer to Black sighted in an 'unknown muggle house.'

"Fletcher had abandoned his post to conduct a 'business deal.' I recommend that we reassign him from any further surveillance, as he cannot be trusted to remain on duty."

The others agreed, and the meeting ended shortly after.

A/N:

The idea of a broken heart affecting magic comes from book 6. Tonks was unable to access her metamorphmagus abilities after Lupin rejected her, but she recovered when he accepted her at the end of the book. Similarly, Merope Gaunt had more difficulty using magic after her husband abandoned her. A lot of fanon has Eileen Snape's depression making her a near-squib, and I incorporated elements of that here as well.

There will be some chapters posted next week, but not quite as many as usual due to holiday travelling.

Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 17**

Hermione Granger was worried about Professor Snape. She kept replaying the one-sided conversation she had overheard the night before. Something about her professor's explanation did not sit right with her. _He never said what the invisible creature was._ _And I've never heard of any sentient beings that only manifest to certain people._

Hermione spent the morning searching for answers in her professor's library. Many of the books were warded, and a large proportion of the others were written in German, which she did not speak. Of the rest, there were a surprising number of texts devoted to magical creatures, but none of the indices listed any species she was not familiar with.

Deciding that she could ask Hagrid when they returned to Hogwarts, she settled in to read _Branches from the Tree of Life: Modern Magical Theory._

 _"_ _Modern magical disciplines traditionally fall into one of three branches: Structure, Creativity, and Balance._ _Each of these contains both high and low magic fields, with high magic requiring significantly more power expenditure than low._

 _"_ _Many witches and wizards feel a strong kinship with a particular branch ._ _This does not necessarily mean that they will be unskilled at the others, but simply that their magic will flow more naturally and easily when they wield a type to which they are more attuned._

 _"_ _The Structure branch focuses on order and logic, as well as reorganizing the world to suit the caster's views._ _Transfiguration is the high magic subtype, while Arithmancy is the low magic counterpart._ _Historically, most witches and wizards of lord-level abilities have been attuned to Structure._ _As a result, Transfiguration is often considered – rightly or wrongly – as the most powerful of the magical disciplines._

 _"_ _The Creativity branch focuses on intuition, with its fields treated as arts._ _However, it is a common misconception that this branch lacks structure._ _Writing a sonnet is an art, but the poet must still confirm to the sonnet's known construction._ _Charms is the high magic subtype, while Potions is its low magic counterpart._ _In the last thousand years, the Creativity branch has produced only three known witches or wizards with lord-level abilities, and is therefore often considered the weakest branch._

 _"_ _The final branch, Balance, incorporates aspects from both Structure and Creativity._ _It focuses on stability and permanence._ _Runes and Herbology represent the high and low magic subtypes, respectively._ _Runic magic is more time-intensive than Transfiguration or Charms, and is one of the least studied high magic fields._ _Despite this, about one-quarter of those with lord-level abilities concentrate on Runes._

 _"_ _There are, of course, other magical disciplines, but these can be considered varieties of those mentioned above._ _Alchemy, for instance, is a type of Transfiguration, despite its surface similarities to Potions."_

Hermione noticed a cramped note in the margin. _Transfiguration – Dumbledore, Dark Lord,_ _Slytherin, Ravenclaw._ _Charms – Hufflepuff._ _Runes – Grindelwald, Gryffindor._

There was a rustling coming from across the room.

"Hermione?" her father called. "Emma?"

"Dad! You're awake!" Hermione rushed over. She saw her mother start to stir as well.

"Honey, you're alright!" he sounded vastly relieved. "What happened?"

Hermione took a breath and began to explain.

-DVDVDV-

"Professor Snape?" Emma Granger asked, now settled in one of the armchairs in the sitting room. The man coming up from the basement matched her daughter's description of their savior. Emma remembered hearing about him in her daughter's letters. _Tall and thin, with a great hooked nose._ _Greasy hair, sallow skin._ _Always dressing in black robes with a million tiny buttons._ _Nasty._ _Ill-tempered._ _Hates Gryffindors._ He had been Hermione's least favorite professor, but Emma suspected that would change now that the man had saved their lives.

When the man inclined his head in acknowledgement, Emma continued, "Thank you. Hermione told us what happened. Thank you for protecting our daughter, for protecting us. If there is anything we can do for you, please, just let us know." Beside her, her husband nodded.

The wizard seemed faintly amused. "It is unwise to offer anything, Doctor Granger. An unscrupulous man might ask for more than you are willing to pay." _The man might look like a walking necromancer cliché, but God, he has a beautiful voice._

"We mean it," Dan said. "You saved our little girl."

The man's lips twitched slightly. "Very well, then. All I ask in exchange is that you keep her under control. Curb the menace that is your daughter."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, surprised. _Professor McGonagall always wrote glowing comments in Hermione's reports home._

"Your daughter has been involved in innumerable _escapades_ since she first set foot at Hogwarts. No doubt you are proud of her _adventurous spirit_ and _nobility of heart_ ," he sneered the words. Emma noted that her daughter's letters were right; the man had a very intimidating sneer. "But she leaves chaos and destruction in her wake. She is a menace."

"I don't understand," Dan said. "We haven't heard anything about this before. What do you think she's done?"

"She repeatedly cheats in my classes, whispering answers to her friends and attempting to do their work for them behind my back. Perhaps this is tolerated in muggle schools, but it is not acceptable behavior in my class!" _No,_ Emma thought sadly, _muggles consider that cheating as well._ _Oh, Hermione, we warned you that there's a difference between helping someone study and letting them cheat off you._ _The first is helping a friend, the second is just someone taking advantage of you._

"Despite my frequent instructions to the contrary, she continually waves her hand in the air, intimidating other students from answering any questions. She refuses to follow instructions, writing essays nearly twice the length as those assigned. And this is simply her _typical_ behavior.

"As a first year student, she _intentionally_ set my robes alight during a crowded sporting event," Snape continued. "She assumed that I was attempting to hex Potter, when in fact I was casting the countercurse to save the little fool. Had she not accidentally knocked over the wizard actually responsible, her friend would have died due to her folly.

"She then slandered me in front of my colleagues, accusing me of trying to kill Potter. When she eventually realized her error, she neither apologized nor acknowledged her misrepresentations.

"Nor did she learn from her mistakes. The following year, she stole expensive, controlled ingredients from my private stores, which she then used to brew a dangerous and highly restricted potion. She and her friends assaulted two of _my_ students, locking them in a closet _on Christmas day_ , where they waited, trapped, for hours before someone found them."

"Oh, God," Emma murmured. _Where had they gone wrong?_ _Why hadn't Professor McGonagall mentioned any of this?_

"And, of course, last year she campaigned for the mass genocide of an entire species of sentient beings. Trying to free all of the house elves may seem like a noble and just cause to champion. However, a few minutes' discussion with them would reveal that not only are they happy as they are, but that the vast majority of the species fall into a life-threatening depression upon being released from servitude. Enobarbus Syndrome kills over 97% of house-elves who are not bound to a family or institution."

Emma glanced at her husband. Like her, he seemed appalled by what the professor had said. _Hermione had written to us about house-elf slavery._ _She'd been so upset about it._ _But if the alternative is death . . . if they're happy . . . . Even Hermione had said that they were happy._ _Brainwashed, she argued, but happy._

"I think," Dan said slowly. "That we need to have a long talk with our daughter."

A/N:

Sorry for the bit of Hermione-bashing! I actually tend to like Hermione as a character (at least until her "whatever it is, the answer is no" behavior in _Deathly Hallows_ ), but this rant was largely from Snape's point of view, and he does have a lot of good reasons for disliking her.

Also, Darkness Visible has broken 100 reviews! You guys are awesome - thanks!

Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 18**

"I think," Dan Granger said slowly. "That we need to have a long talk with our daughter."

Severus felt surprised – and gratified – that they actually seemed to believe him. So often his complaints about the golden Gryffindors were pushed aside. For the girl's parents, who obviously loved her, to listen to him list the wrongs their daughter had committed was astounding. _How often does anyone outside Slytherin treat me with something other than fear or loathing?_

"Yes, I think we must. But before we do," Emma Granger said, "would you mind telling us more about what's going on? Hermione told us about, um, You-Know-Who being back, and that her friend Harry is being targeted because he's the Boy-Who-Lived or some such nonsense. And we read some of Hermione's books before she started school, so we know about the war you had back in the '70s. But I want to make sure we're doing the right thing, sending her to your school. And if her behavior there is anything like you've described, I don't think her safety is our only concern."

Severus considered this for a moment. _How much to tell them?_ In the end, it was a simple decision. _They don't hate me._

"From your daughter, you likely know that, in June of this year, the Dark Lord kidnapped Potter and used his blood in a ritual to restore himself to his body and former strength. His followers, the Death Eaters, returned to him en masse. Through a fluke of luck, Potter escaped from their clutches. Our government, the Ministry of Magic, refuses to acknowledge these events, preferring to pretend that all remains well and safe.

"The Dark Lord is obsessed with Potter, but is unable to harm him where he currently resides. As your daughter is both his close associate and a muggleborn, she was and is a prime target for his wrath. His followers were instructed to bring her to him, so that he could use her to manipulate Potter out of hiding," Severus explained, observing the Grangers. They paled, but did not seem surprised.

"If we take Hermione out of that school, will she be safe?"

"I cannot speak for the Dark Lord, not least of which is because his grasp on sanity is tenuous at best. However, he does not react well to defiance, and he will view your daughter's escape as a challenge to his authority. I believe it most likely that he will actively pursue your daughter, even should you flee.

"Hogwarts is one of the most heavily warded structures in the world, and Headmaster Dumbledore is one of the only people of whom the Dark Lord is wary. It is ultimately a question of whether she should stay in a fortified structure known to the enemy, or in a less protected location for which the enemy must search. Ultimately, it is your decision as her parents. Nor do you necessarily have to decide now."

Dan Granger nodded. "And these people – these Death Eaters – they're like the Nazis?"

"At this point, yes."

"But they weren't before?"

"Not in the beginning. The Dark Lord sought to revolutionize the wizarding world, which has grown stagnant. Many aspects of our culture have been restricted over the centuries, and he promised to reinstate many of our old traditions. At the same time, he argued for greater rights for sentient magical creatures and proposed lessening the restrictions on the Dark Arts.

"Initially, the Dark Lord attempted to make these changes through legitimate channels, but Headmaster Dumbledore blocked him from running for Minister of Magic. His disenfranchisement led to a more militant approach and helped to radicalize the movement. The Dark Lord began marking his followers, and Britain fell into a state of civil war."

"And Headmaster Dumbledore is the one fighting for muggleborn rights?" Emma Granger asked.

Severus shrugged slightly. "Supposedly."

"You mean he isn't?"

"Albus Dumbledore has been the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for almost 40 years. He has hired all of the current members of staff except for Professor Flitwick, who was appointed by his predecessor. Barring the Defense position, which is cursed so that no one retains it for more than one year, do know how many muggleborns he has hired? None.

"He has appointed only one half-blood – someone with at least one muggle grandparent – during his tenure as headmaster. Not coincidentally, that figure matches the number of half-bloods in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle. Slytherin House took the appointment as a deliberate insult, and it only served to weaken our relations with the rest of the school. All of the other members of staff are purebloods.

"Statistically speaking, muggleborns perform below their half-bloods and pureblood peers. Your daughter is an outlier in this. One's mental state is crucial to one's magical performance. I hypothesize that many muggleborns form a mental block after being punished by terrified muggles for performing accidental magic that they cannot control. Earlier detection could likely prevent these issues, and yet the headmaster continues to deny legislation that would allow this. Each year since I joined the faculty, some muggleborn students are unable to enroll in Hogwarts. Some die, while others are permanent residents of St. Mungo's due to the mental backlash of trying to suppress their accidental magic.

"The headmaster may be _well-intentioned_. He may say the right things. But he has hardly fought for muggleborn rights. He simply opposes those who fight against them."

The Grangers considered this. "Thank you, Professor. I can see that we have a lot to discuss with our daughter."

-DVDVDV-

Hermione had been in the kitchen making tea when she heard her parents start talking to Professor Snape. She was about to come out and join then when the conversation turned to her. She listened as Professor Snape listed her offenses. At first, she felt indignant. _I was just trying to help my friends!_ But as the list grew, she felt more and more ashamed. She _had_ set his robes on fire. She _had_ never apologized for accusing him of trying to kill Harry, or of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. She _had_ stolen from him. _I didn't realize he'd figured out who it was._ _But then, I_ did _turn into a cat-human hybrid._ She'd never worried about it before, but locking Crabbe and Goyle in that closet must have ruined their Christmas. _No wonder he hates us._

She felt tears prickling as Snape mentioned the house-elves. _I could have killed them?_ _Why didn't anyone warn me?_ _I just wanted to help!_

And then her parents mentioned withdrawing her from Hogwarts. _They can't do that!_ But to her shock, Professor Snape seemed to be arguing for her to stay.

The brief overview Snape provided of the history of the Death Eaters was fascinating. None of her books had mentioned these details. _History is written by the victors_ , she reminded herself. _It's easier to paint the enemy as wholly evil, especially since even Professor Snape admits that that's what they've become._ _What would have happened if Professor Dumbledore hadn't blocked You-Know-Who from entering politics?_ _Would things have been better, or would everything be even worse?_

Hermione was horrified by what Snape had said about Dumbledore's treatment of muggleborns. _That can't be right._ _Surely, he must have hired at least a few muggleborns._ She considered each of her professors, but could not think of any who were muggleborn, or even half-blood. _Could he actually be right?_

 _Will I be allowed to stay at Hogwarts?_

A/N: Please review!


	19. Chapter 19

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 19**

Three days later, Dumbledore finally returned to Britain. Severus had, mercifully, not been summoned in the intervening days. While the Grangers had been fairly unobtrusive, he was anxious to have his small house to himself again.

 _Well, myself and the phoenix._

The phoenix had, for a wonder, given Severus his space as he mulled over the implications that he was, in fact, real. Unfortunately, Severus remained uncertain how to proceed. He was already slave to two masters. He did not wish a third.

 _But Dumbledore is not subject to Fawkes_ , he reminded himself.

He did not know what to do.

 _First things first._ _Get rid of the Grangers._

-DVDVDV-

After a long, uncomfortable discussion, Hermione's parents had agreed to let her remain at Hogwarts. There were, however, some concessions that she had had to make. Her Hogsmeade privileges were revoked. She would only be allowed in the library for two hours each day. Her parents would only lift these restrictions if Professor Snape agreed that her behavior had improved.

Her parents had explained, not unkindly, that Hermione had been doing a terrible disservice to her friends by doing their work for them.

"You're only hurting them in the long run, dear. What will they do once they've graduated?" her mother had pointed out.

"If they really are your friends, they'll forgive you for not doing their work for them. If they abandon you, then, honey, they weren't really friends to begin with," her father had added.

Hermione promised to improve. She promised would let her friends succeed or fail on their own merits. She could still help them review concepts, but she would no longer supply the answers. She would give other students a chance to respond to questions in class. She would follow the instructions of the assignment ("If you had to grade dozens of essays, would you want to be handed one twice the assigned length? There is a virtue in brevity, dear.").

And, most of all, she had promised to be a model student in Professor Snape's presence. She would not slander him, or set him on fire ("Really, Hermione! You know better than to shout 'Fire' in a crowded theater – starting a fire at a sports match is no better. You could have caused a panic. People could have died."). She would not steal from anyone or assault other students. She had pled her good intentions. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," her mother had reminded her.

And so, three days later, Hermione again stood, disillusioned, in front of a row of townhouses. This time, though, when Professor Snape returned, he was accompanied by Headmaster Dumbledore, who looked horribly out of place on a muggle street.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he said softly. Suddenly, Hermione could see a house emerge. From her parents' gasp of surprise, they could as well.

"If you will come this way, my dears," Dumbledore said.

"Headmaster, if I might be excused?" Snape asked.

"Are you certain? I believe Molly has quite the feast prepared for this evening."

"I am fairly busy," Snape replied drily.

"Very well, then, my boy, very well."

There was a loud _crack_ as Snape vanished. Dumbledore led the Grangers inside.

The house was . . . not what Hermione had expected for the headquarters of a group dedicated to fighting You-Know-Who. It seemed more like what she had expected Professor Snape's house would be like, before she had actually seen it. _Dark and sinister Professor Snape lives in an ordinary muggle house, while the headquarters for the Light is a gloomy and creepy townhome._ _The world has gone mad._

Mrs. Weasley bustled out to greet them and enveloped Hermione in a bone-crushing hug. "Hermione, dear, I am so glad to see you. We were all so worried!" She turned to Hermione's parents. "We've made up a room for you upstairs. Sorry about the state of it, it's been a nightmare getting this house in order. Abandoned for years."

Dumbledore excused himself as Mrs. Weasley led them upstairs. "Hermione, you'll be sharing with Ginny. Hope you don't mind. I've made a bed up for you. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, your room is right through here. I understand you weren't able to bring much with you. Kingsley managed to gather some clothes for you. He should be back with them soon."

Mrs. Weasley was a force of nature. No sooner had they settled their things than she bustled them off downstairs for dinner.

Dinner was awkward. Most of the wizards had no idea how to treat Hermione's parents. Fortunately, Arthur Weasley seemed all too happy to grill them on the workings of airplanes and the proper use of a rubber duck.

"Can't believe you survived the greasy git," Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione chastened. "He saved our lives!"

"Doesn't make him any more pleasant," he retorted.

"What was his house like? Was it a crypt –" began Fred.

"Or a manor?" finished George.

Hermione remembered her professor asking her to keep his home life private. She remembered her parents' warnings. "Who cares where he lives? He saved my entire family! He deserves his privacy."

"Did you at least find out –"

"Who his mystery lover is?"

"What?" Hermione choked.

Ron laughed. "Snape has a boyfriend! Can you believe it? Someone actually is willing to shag the old bat. Everyone in the Order is dying to know who it is."

Hermione remembered the discussion between Snape and Malfoy a few days ago. It made a bit more sense now. "What does it matter? He's an adult."

"Aw, come on, Hermione! You must have learned something at Snape's," wheedled Ron. "Something to keep him off our backs this year."

"He saved our lives!" Hermione snapped. "I may not like him much, but Professor Snape saved us. My parents were being tortured, and he _saved them_. The Death Eaters planned to bring me to You-Know-Who, and they would have without Professor Snape being there!"

Conversations stopped as everyone turned to Hermione. She flushed.

"Well said, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "I am glad that _someone_ here finally acknowledges the contributions that Professor Snape makes on a regular basis." Sirius snorted derisively, but no one else commented.

After dinner, Hermione asked McGonagall for a private word. She had spent days thinking over some of the things that Snape had said, and she needed confirmation.

"Professor, is it true that there are no muggleborns teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked once they were alone in the library.

McGonagall looked very surprised by the question, but answered, "I believe that is correct, Miss Granger. Why do you ask?"

"And is there really only one half-blood?" Hermione persisted.

McGonagall's eyebrows rose. She pursed her lips, frowning in consideration. "As it is normally considered, yes, Miss Granger. I fear you are correct." She did not look pleased by this.

Hermione wanted to ask who is was, but the realization hit her before she could ask. "It's Professor Snape, isn't it?" she asked, already knowing the answer. _Professor Snape lives in a muggle house._ _There is one half-blood who is an Inner Circle Death Eater._ _There is only one half-blood professor at Hogwarts._ _"_ _Slytherin House took the appointment as a deliberate insult."_ _Making a half-blood the Head of pureblood Slytherin House_ would _be seen as an insult._ _An impoverished half-blood, from what Lucius Malfoy said._ She felt sick.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes. Miss Granger, why are you asking?"

"I heard Professor Snape tell my parents some things. I didn't want them to be right. Professor, are there really some muggleborns who die before they even get their letters?" _Please, please let that be a lie._

The expression of Professor McGonagall's face gave the answer, even before her words did. "Yes, Miss Granger, I am very much afraid so."

 _Professor Dumbledore isn't the man I thought he was._ _Professor Snape was right._

 _I will keep his secret._ _I won't tell anyone about his hallucination, if it was a hallucination._

 _I owe him too much._

-DVDVDV-

"And is there really only one half-blood?" Miss Granger persisted.

Minerva felt her eyebrows rise. She pursed her lips, frowning in consideration. _Technically, Hagrid and Filius are part-humans, not half-bloods._ _Pomona, Septima, Aurora , even Sybill . . . all purebloods._ _Surely, Albus would have hired some non-purebloods . . ._ She mentally listed all of her colleagues. _Only Severus . . . Merlin, how can he be the only one?_ "As it is normally considered, yes, Miss Granger. I fear you are correct."

"It's Professor Snape, isn't it?" she asked. She seemed resigned.

Minerva nodded. "Yes. Miss Granger, why are you asking?" _What did Severus tell you?_

"I heard Professor Snape tell my parents some things. I didn't want them to be right. Professor, are there really some muggleborns who die before they even get their letters?" Her tone was pleading McGonagall to say it was false.

 _That_ was one of the school's uglier secrets. _What is Severus doing?_ But she was a Gryffindor, and she had her honor and her courage. "Yes, Miss Granger, I am very much afraid so."

And Minerva watched as the last of the girl's innocence crumbled.

-DVDVDV-

There was panic and shouting, wild accusations and mad plans. Dementors had attacked Harry Potter in Surrey, and only Mad-Eye Moody's presence on guard duty had saved him from being Kissed. Severus Snape had not returned from his summons, and no one knew what Voldemort was planning.

A/N:

Whew! Finally done with the Grangers' rescue section. This exploded from 2 chapters in my outline to 8 when actually written out.

Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 20**

"You!" Moody roared as soon Severus entered the kitchen. "You have some nerve, showing up here after that stunt your master just pulled!" There were nods and murmurs of assent from the small group present.

"I take it that something occurred while I was summoned?" Severus asked, seemingly unaffected by the angry glares directed his way. Dumbledore's eyes were not twinkling. _Dumbledore, Moody, Black, Lupin, Tonks, and Shacklebolt. Three aurors, two schoolyard bullies, and one of my two masters._ _None of them happy with me._ _What happened?_

"Severus, Harry was attacked by dementors about an hour after you were summoned. Alastor was on guard duty, and was able to drive them off with his _patronus_. Fortunately, Harry was not Kissed, and we have brought him here safely," Dumbledore explained.

"Why didn't our spy warn us of the attack? Or that Voldemort had control of the dementors?" demanded Moody.

"I did not have any knowledge of this attack, nor have I heard that he had successfully brokered an alliance with the dementors," Severus replied honestly. "The Dark Lord, as I have repeatedly tried to explain, does not inform his followers of all of his plans."

"Liar!" Black roared. "You were with him when it happened! You were there for _hours_. You wanted Harry dead!"

"Be that as it may, the Dark Lord did not discuss these matters in my presence."

"Then what were you doing with old snake-face for so long?" Moody demanded.

"Primarily discussing magical theory and some new projects he requested," Severus drawled. "He also indicated that he is intentionally stalling with regard to the Hall of Prophecies. I suspect that –"

"Prove it," snapped Moody. "Show us your memories of the summons – No, show us everything that happened since you dropped Granger off here."

Dumbledore raised a hand. "Alastor, I trust Severus. There is no need for this."

"No, Albus, there is. You may trust the man, but _I_ do not. And I think I speak for the others here as well." There were nods of agreement. "He is a Death Eater, and we have no proof that he is truly on our side."

Severus loosened his wand from its holster. He would be able to draw it in an instant should be need it. "I am leaving. In the future, Headmaster, I will direct my reports to you or Minerva only. I see no reason to subject myself to _this_ each time I return from the Dark Lord." He turned to leave.

"Severus –" Dumbledore began. Severus ignored him.

He dodged the first spell thrown at him, a powerful stunner from Moody. He swiftly cast a shield, which caught two additional hexes.

"One can always trust Gryffindors to attack a lone man while his back is turned," he sneered. "I am _leaving._ " Slowly, not taking his eyes off the room, he began backing out of the room.

He deflected three more curses before Dumbledore raised his wand. With a bang, Severus found himself unable to move. "I am sorry, Severus, but this mistrust cannot continue. Perhaps, if we could review your memories of the last day, we can clear up these accusations once and for all. Alastor, if everything is as Severus described, you will cease your allegations against him."

"No," Severus said. "I will not. No one else has their loyalties relentlessly questioned. No one else has their minds and their privacy invaded on a regular basis. I do not consent."

Dumbledore sighed. "Then I must force your hand for the good of the Order." _For the Greater Good, you mean. You are no different than any other dark lord._

Dumbledore pressed his wand to Severus's forehead. There was a violent pull on his mind. Dumbledore was not simply using legilimency – he was forcing his will through his wand. _The Elder Wand. The unbeatable wand, claiming me as its next victim._ Severus struggled, tightening his occlumency shields. Still, the force pressed on his mind. He screamed in agony.

He felt Dumbledore's resolve weaken. _Get out!_ He pushed against the intrusion. But then the pressure redoubled. He screamed again.

And suddenly the pain stopped. Dumbledore lifted his hand, a silver strand of memory dangling from the end of his wand. _I will destroy you for this, old man._ Severus felt blood drip from his nose.

Shacklebolt handed a stone pensieve that had been sitting on the kitchen counter. _How very convenient for them. Almost as if they had planned this all along._

"You told the school last term that there is a choice between doing what is right and doing what is easy, Headmaster. This is doing what is easy." Severus's voice was quiet in its rage. Dumbledore flinched, and Lupin looked slightly uncomfortable. _The wolf has a conscience. Pity he never exercises it._ The others, though, only looked anticipatory.

"I am sorry, Severus, but it is necessary."

"Knock him out. I don't want the bastard escaping until we've seen what we need to see," Moody said.

And he knew no more.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! The next one will be a lot longer.

Please review!


	21. Chapter 21

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 21**

"Headmaster, if I might be excused?" the memory Snape asked.

"Are you certain? I believe Molly has quite the feast prepared for this evening," the memory Dumbledore replied.

"I am fairly busy," Snape replied drily.

"Very well, then, my boy, very well."

As Snape apparated away, the scene shifted. They were now in a small kitchen. Remus noted the ancient icebox and small dining table with only a single chair. While nothing was obviously in ill-repair, there was a vague sense of neglect and shabbiness to the room.

Snape swiftly left the room and entered a small sitting room. Remus glanced around at the two armchairs and numerous bookcases. Again, he felt something _off_ about the place.

 _It's so ordinary_ , he realized. _No one would guess a wizard – a powerful wizard at that – lived here._

"Where are we?" Moody demanded. In the memory, Snape waved a hand, and one of the bookcases moved aside to reveal stairs. He went down. They followed him to a small basement set up as a potions laboratory.

"This is Snape's house?" Tonks asked, incredulous. "I always imagined something a bit more, well, like him."

Snape set about preparing ingredients. He worked quickly yet meticulously. Remus watched his hands move expertly as they chopped and diced, skinned and ground. It was hypnotic.

Snape arranged three cauldrons and began to add ingredients to each.

"What's he making?" asked Sirius.

"Cruciatus Relief," Kingsley pointed at one cauldron. "Bruise Salve," he pointed at another. He shrugged. "Not sure about the third."

They turned to Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled. "Nor do I, I'm afraid. Severus is the potions master, not I. Something experimental, perhaps?"

Hours passed. In the memory, Snape brewed over a dozen potions. He looked calmer and more at ease than Remus had ever seen him. _Of course, he is being left alone to do what he enjoys._ "Don't you ever take a break, Snivellus?" Sirius grumbled, having grown bored watching Snape brew.

Remus glanced around at the others. Dumbledore was watching serenely, Moody avidly. The others, like him, seemed to be growing restless. Even the normally stoic Kingsley showed traces of boredom.

" _Tempus_." Tonks jumped. Snape spoke for the first time since arriving at his house. The spell showed that it was a little after one in the morning.

Snape had, apparently, just finished his latest batch of potions. He cleared his workspace, and then went back upstairs to the kitchen. With a wave of his hand, he heated up a bowl of soup that he had removed from the icebox. With his left hand, Snape then made an odd gesture over the soup, which Remus remembered from his year of teaching. He sat in the wooden chair and began to eat.

"He didn't use his wand," Kingsley noted. Remus started. That was true, he realized. In the memory, Snape had yet to use his wand for anything. Yet he had moved the bookcase aside and heated his dinner. Wandless magic was supposed to be extremely difficult. He himself could barely cast a weak _lumos_ without his wand. _Just how powerful is Severus?_

"He always complained about 'foolish wand-waving' in class," Tonks said, seeming impressed. "Guess he meant it."

Soon, the memory Snape finished eating. He returned the remains of his soup to the icebox, and then waved his hand again.

"Preservation spell," Kingsley guessed. "A third-year charm."

Snape returned to the basement. Remus groaned. _Didn't he ever sleep? They had another twelve hours until the summons was supposed to have taken place._

 _Merlin, not more brewing._ Remus yawned. Even Dumbledore had lost his twinkle. _So much brewing._

After what seemed like another few hours, Snape went upstairs again. This time, he did not stop in the sitting room, but instead went to the second floor. Without bothering to light the dark hall, Snape walked a few paces over creaking floorboards. Someone bumped into Remus as he tried to follow.

"Oof! Sorry!" he heard Tonks say. "Can't see a ruddy thing."

"Bloody bat," muttered Sirius.

There was the sound of running water.

"He's brushing his teeth," Moody said. _How?_ _Oh, of course._ _His magical eye._

The water stopped. The floorboards creaked. Snape was moving down the hall again.

"It's a bedroom," Moody said. "Tiny thing."

"Not going to give me privacy as I change?" Remus heard Snape ask. _What? How did a memory know we were here?_

"No one else is there!" Moody snapped. He sounded troubled.

"Yet I now acknowledge your existence," Snape said. Remus felt a chill. _Is he some sort of seer? Did he know we would be here, witnessing this?_

"Who are you speaking to?" Moody asked the memory.

"I do not trust you, phoenix. Now go, let me sleep in peace."

"How did he know we'd be here?" Tonks asked. She sounded as disconcerted as Remus felt.

"Severus, my boy, would you mind explaining how you know we are here?" Dumbledore asked. There was no response.

"He obviously tampered with the memory," Sirius snarled.

"No," Dumbledore replied. "Signs of tampering are impossible to hide. This memory is real. Early this morning, Severus said those words in this room. Severus, are you perchance a seer?"

Silence.

After several long minutes, the scene shifted. _Severus must have fallen asleep._ In the memory, Snape was lying in a twin bed. Moody had been right; the room was tiny. Aside from the bed, the room held only a battered trunk. An old, faded Slytherin banner hung on one wall. Remus felt depressed just looking at it. The small cottage his parents had left him was nicer than this. _It doesn't make sense – Severus has been teaching for almost fifteen years. Surely he can afford something nicer than this._

" _Tempus,_ " Snape cast. Again, he did not use a wand. It was just before eight in the morning. _He couldn't have gotten more than four hours' sleep._

Snape, wearing a faded grey nightshirt, got out of bed and gathered a set of clothes from his trunk. He laid them out neatly, and then walked down the hall to the bathroom.

"Perhaps we should afford Severus some privacy here?" Dumbledore suggested, his eyes twinkling. Remus saw Tonks flush.

"Constant vigilance," Moody retorted.

They watched awkwardly as the memory Snape relieved himself and washed his hands. He turned the shower on, and then removed his nightshirt.

"Merlin!" It was Kingsley, quiet, stoic Kingsley, who swore. Remus felt too shocked to say anything.

Snape was a mess. Remus had not expected him to be a picture of health, but this . . . . Remus had always known that Snape was thin, he had seen him barely touch his soup the night before, but he had not realized . . . . Snape was not simply thin, or even gaunt. He was _emaciated._ Had he wished, Remus could have easily counted his ribs.

But the scars were worse. Snape's back had been flayed. There was no other word for it. Strips of flesh had obviously been removed from it, over and over again. And the rest of him . . . even his feet were scarred. _Only his face and hands were spared. Only the parts that others would see._ _Merlin . . . what happened to you, Severus?_

"Severus, my dear boy, why didn't you tell us?" Dumbledore murmured, appalled, at his potions master's ravaged body.

"Wonder how Snape lost a nipple," Sirius said. He seemed to be _enjoying_ the sight. Remus felt deeply ashamed of his friend. Even Moody had lost his predatory gleam. Remus looked at two long parallel scars crossing Snape's torso. Someone – or something – had indeed carved out his right nipple. He felt bile rise in his throat.

In the memory, Snape stepped into the shower and began to lather on soap.

"I think . . . Merlin, did I do that? That night in the Shrieking Shack?" Remus asked, horrified.

"You were not responsible for your actions at the time," Dumbledore answered swiftly. "It would have only hurt you to learn of it."

"You should have told me," Remus said softly. "Severus, I'm so sorry." _And you should have told Sirius, told him the consequences of his cruelty. Sirius deserved more than two weeks of detention for this._ _I never realized I'd come so close . . . . Merlin, Severus was right all along._ _I nearly killed him back then._

"This is wrong," Tonks suddenly said. "I'm sorry, Moody, but this is wrong. I want to leave."

"Stay here, girl!" Moody snapped. "Being an auror isn't about sunshine and roses. It means facing hard truths. If you're not cut out for it, fine. But don't call yourself an auror."

Tonks hesitated, but then subsided.

Snape finished his shower. Remus suddenly realized that Snape did not have a towel. Its absence was explained a moment later, as, with a casual wave of his hand, Snape dried himself off.

"Second-year charm," Kingsley noted. "Wandless, again."

Carrying his nightshirt, Snape walked, naked, back to his bedroom. He began to dress – underwear, undershirt, dress shirt, trousers, waistcoat, robes, frock coat. _With that many layers, no wonder I didn't realize how thin he was._

Dressed, the memory Snape went downstairs to the kitchen. He removed three potions from a small cupboard. Kingsley recognized two of them as Liver Elixir and a nutrient potion. Remus could see part of the label on the third – "e's Kiss." None of them recognized the partial name.

Snape made himself a cup of tea and removed some bread and cheese. As with the soup earlier, he made a gesture with his left hand over the meal. As he ate, he read the morning's _Daily Prophet_.

"Diagnostic spell?" Kingsley asked, glancing at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Severus always checks for contaminants before he eats," Dumbledore explained.

After eating, Snape went to the sitting room, where he took out his wand and conjured a rubber ball about the size of Remus's fist.

"Bastard finally used his wand for something," Moody muttered.

Snape clearly was doing _something_ with the ball, but Remus could not imagine what. He would occasionally poke at it with his wand, or swish it in the ball's direction.

"What's he doing?" Remus asked.

"I have no idea," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. "However, it does seem to be rather captivating, doesn't it?"

It certainly seemed engrossing for Snape, as he spent over an hour doing . . . whatever it was. Eventually, though, he vanished the ball with a wave of his wand, and then proceeded downstairs to the basement.

"Merlin, not more brewing," Sirius groaned.

There was more brewing.

"If I never see a cauldron ever again, it'll be too soon," Tonks muttered.

It was obvious when the summons came. Snape's left arm twitched, and he hissed sharply. He quickly cast stasis charms on the bubbling cauldrons, and then ran upstairs, where he summoned his Death Eater robes and mask. He swiftly pulled them on.

"Wandless and wordless _accio_. Fourth year charm," Kingsley noted.

"Will you be joining me?" Snape suddenly asked. "This is, after all, the sort of 'fun' that you always pester me about."

"How the hell does he know we're here?" Moody snarled.

"That is incredibly creepy. Not just Snape's usual creepy, either," Tonks muttered.

With a wave of his wand, Snape turned one of the silver bookends green. He disapparated, and the scene shifted.

A/N:

No, Severus can't see in the dark. There's a fiery phoenix lighting the room for him – it's just that the Order can't see it, so (for them) there's no illumination. Plus, I liked having them blunder about in the dark.

Please review.


	22. Chapter 22

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 22**

When the scene reformed, they found themselves in a large ballroom. At one end, Voldemort sat on a beautiful carved marble throne. Remus recalled the only time he had ever seen the man in person. Remus had been a little over nineteen, fighting alongside the Order against a group of Death Eaters who had attacked Diagon Alley. Voldemort had arrived to bolster his forces. Back then, though, he still looked mostly human, with only a slight blurring of the handsome, aristocratic features. Now, only the crimson eyes remained as Remus remembered. The black hair, lightly dusted with gray, was gone, leaving Voldemort seemingly hairless. His nose had likewise vanished, replaced by mere slits. _And this is why you shouldn't meddle with the dark arts._

No one else was in the room except for Snape and Voldemort. Remus watched as the memory Snape, masked and robed, knelt on the tiled floor. "My lord," he murmured.

"Rise, Severusss," Voldemort hissed, his voice high and cold. Again, Remus was struck by the change. From his sole encounter against the man, he remembered a rich tenor shouting orders at his troops.

Snape stood. "How faresss Dumbledore's Order?" Voldemort asked.

"My lord, there has been little change since my last report. Dumbledore is scrambling to retain his authority in the face of ministerial displeasure. He spent the last several days meeting with the International Confederation of Wizards, attempting to salvage his position as Chief Mugwump. However, these efforts will likely prove unsuccessful. I expect that he will receive a no-confidence vote within the next fortnight."

 _What?_ Remus had heard nothing about this. Nor, judging by their expressions, had Moody, Sirius, Kingsley, or Tonks. Dumbledore, seeing their looks, merely nodded, apparently unconcerned.

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "That matches the reportsss I have received from Luciusss. Is there anything else, Severusss?"

"Not from the Order, my Lord."

Voldemort chuckled and rose from his throne. He glided over to Snape and removed his mask, cupping a long, pale hand to Snape's cheek. Snape remained stoic and still. Remus felt himself flinch on Snape's behalf.

"My dear pet, have you brought me a new toy?" Voldemort asked, pleased.

"'Pet?" Sirius repeated, incredulous.

"Indeed, my Lord." Snape's lips twitched into a small, crooked smile before settling back into implacability. "If I have your leave to demonstrate?"

Voldemort's red eyes stared into Snape's black ones for a long moment. Then Voldemort released Snape's face and stepped back. "Impressss me."

"These are a set of curses. I have provisionally called them the 'Seven Deadly Sins,' although, of course, their final designations are yours to bestow." Snape drew his wand. " _Avis_." A large goose appeared and began to waddle away from him.

"The first is Sloth. _Acedia_." The goose stopped. It lay on the ground and nestled its head under one wing. "The cursed creature will experience a lack of motivation. It will rest, uncaring, until it dies, even when confronted by extreme pain. _Crucio_." The goose twitched, but made no sound of pain. Snape released the curse. The goose continued to lie on the ground, its head buried beneath a wing.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered. Remus silently agreed.

Snape summoned a second goose. "The second is Gluttony. _Gula._ " The goose began to peck at its side, biting into it. Remus felt sick. "The victim will attempt to consume itself until it finally dies from the damage. If you attempt to block the victim from eating, it will become so distressed that its heart will eventually burst. _Langlock_." The bird's beak clamped shut. It struggled to open it, becoming increasingly frantic. Voldemort watched, enthralled. Eventually, the struggles ceased. The goose had died.

"This is horrible," Tonks murmured. "He _invented_ these?"

"There are still five more," Sirius said angrily. "Snape always was a sick bastard."

Snape conjured a third goose. "Despair. _Tristitia_." The goose banged its head again and again against the tiled floor. It began to bleed, but still it continued. "The victim will feel overcome with self-loathing and hopelessness, and will endeavor to destroy itself."

The Order watched as goose after goose died. Throughout his demonstration, Snape remained clinical and detached, while Voldemort appeared increasingly delighted.

"I shall enjoy playing with these. Do they have counterspellssss?" Voldemort asked.

"I saw no need to create any. Should you will it, I shall, of course, rectify that lapse," Snape replied, inclining his head slightly.

"No, my pet. You have done exceedingly well. Lord Voldemort is pleased with you. My faithful Severussss. So many yearss, and yet still so faithful." Voldemort stroked Snape's cheek with a single long finger. "Attend me."

The Order members followed as Voldemort led Snape out of the ballroom and towards a large, well-appointed study. A massive black snake lay curled on an ornamental rug in one corner. Voldemort settled into the sole seat, an antique armchair. He gestured at a sheaf of parchments on the desk in front of him. "Read," he commanded.

Snape obeyed, walking to the desk and picking up the sheets. Dumbledore moved closer to read over his shoulder. The others followed suit. Remus read enough to realize that it was a very complex treatise on magical theory that was well beyond his level of understanding. Although Kingsley and Dumbledore appeared engrossed, a glance at the others showed a similar reaction. Sirius and Moody drifted off to examine the rest of the room.

"This is revolutionary," Kingsley said, still reading.

"Tom always was a brilliant student, but this exceeds even his typical efforts," Dumbledore agreed.

"Care to translate it for the rest of us?" Tonks asked. "All I can tell is that it's beyond NEWT levels."

"As you may recall from your Hogwarts days, charms and transfiguration are opposing disciplines. You cannot cast a single spell that combines the two. For instance, if you wish to summon a levitating quill, you must first cast a transfiguration spell to conjure a quill, and then cast a levitation charm on it. This hypothesizes a means of combining those steps into a single spell," Dumbledore explained.

Remus contemplated this as he joined Moody and Sirius in investigating the rest of the room. _What could you do with a spell that combined transfiguration and charms? If used the right way, it could be devastating in a fight . . . ._

The great snake woke and slithered over to Voldemort, resting her head in his lap. He absently stroked her as he watched Snape read. Finally, Snape finished.

"My Lord, this is extraordinary. This challenges all we believed about the nature of magic. Might I inquire as to how you countered the Ritalic barrier?"

Voldemort smiled. It was a terrible sight. "The imbalance in the xenotrinsic framework allowed for itsss successss."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "To compensate for the paradigm reversal, I assume?"

"Yessss," Voldemort replied. "The morphic properties overwhelm the matrix."

Voldemort and Snape continued speaking in this vein for about half an hour. Dumbledore and Kingsley listened, fascinated. Although Remus did not understand much of what they said, he recognized the seemingly genuine enjoyment that both Voldemort and Snape appeared to take from the conversation.

As the discussion began to wind down, Voldemort said, "I have a new project for you, Severusss, as you seem to enjoy violating the laws of magic so."

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

"Flight, Severussss. You are going to learn how to fly." Voldemort laughed, cold and high, at the flicker of surprise that briefly appeared on Snape's face.

"Flight?" spluttered Sirius.

Voldemort waved a languid hand and shrugged off his robes. He sat, naked, in the chair. He was, as Remus had suspected, entirely hairless. Remus noted a faint tracing of scales on Voldemort's torso.

"Ugh," Tonks said. "I did not need to see that."

Snape immediately moved to stand behind the chair. He put his hands on Voldemort's shoulders and began to massage them. He acted entirely without hesitation, Remus realized, as if this were a well-trained response. _How often has he had to do this?_

"Bloody hell," Sirius breathed. "I guess he isn't entirely snakelike."

"Still think your tame Death Eater is loyal to you?" Moody asked.

"Thus far, I have seen nothing to contradict Severus's abbreviated report earlier," Dumbledore replied calmly.

"He invented seven new dark curses, all of them lethal, which he just _gave_ to Voldemort as a _gift_. You're bloody well watching him massage Voldemort as we speak!" Moody snapped. "What more proof do you need?"

"Severusss, has there been any further discussion related to the prophecy?" Voldemort asked.

"No, my Lord," Snape replied. He did not pause in his work.

"McNair's Unspeakable was lessss than helpful," Voldemort mused. Remus could see no change in Snape's demeanor, but Voldemort obviously seemed to sense something. "You disapprove, Severusss? You would handle thingsss differently?" His cold, high voice had become dangerous.

"My Lord, I would never presume to question your decisions. You have far more power and knowledge than I," Snape demurred, now kneading Voldemort's lower back with his hands. It was, Remus realized, a very awkward angle for him, given the position of the chair, yet Snape seemed unhindered.

"You would be wise to remember that, my pet. And yet, I wonder. What would you do, should the decision be yoursss?"

"I would polyjuice myself as someone unknown, preferably a muggle or a foreign wizard, and then sneak in, invisible, early in the morning when few would be at the Ministry. Should I encounter any Unspeakables, I could elude them if possible. Failing that, I would _confund_ or _imperius_ them. I would then retrieve the prophecy, listen to it, and then destroy any trace of its existence before departing," Snape replied promptly.

 _That is surprisingly good advice_ , Remus realized.

"See!" Moody snarled.

Voldemort chuckled. "Yesss, that method would appeal to you. The simplest answersss are sometimesss best. But sometimesss is not alwaysss, Severusss. You would do well to remember your place. _Crucio_!"

Remus flinched as, in the memory, Snape fell to the ground. For a long minute, Snape remained silently thrashing on the floor, clearly fighting to remain silent. Then he began to scream. Voldemort kept the curse going for another minute before releasing his servant.

 _Severus had cruciatus tremors when he arrived at Headquarters_ , Remus suddenly realized. _We confronted him before he had a chance to recover._ He felt deeply ashamed. He then recalled what Snape had said earlier, before his report had been interrupted. According to him, the summons had mostly covered "magical theory and some new projects . . . . He also indicated that he is intentionally stalling with regard to the Hall of Prophecies." _We've certainly seen the discussion of magical theory, and I suppose flight would count as a new project. Is this what Severus meant when he said he thought Voldemort was stalling?_

"Yes, my Lord." Though he was still trembling, Snape rose to his feet and continued the massage as if nothing had happened. Several more minutes passed in silence.

Voldemort waved his wand at Snape, who suddenly stood naked, his robes removed to a neat pile on the floor. Snape immediately knelt. Voldemort rose from his seat and moved towards his servant.

"Oh, Merlin," Tonks breathed.

They had learned the identity of Snape's mystery lover.

A/N:

Editing this chapter since there's been a lot of concern about how it ends. This is NOT a romance. There will be a few follow-up comments from characters related to this revelation in the fic, but this chapter is about as explicit as it gets. There will, under no circumstances, be any sex scenes between any characters. If characters have sex, it'll be written as "And then they spent the night together," and that's it.

I hope that addresses your concerns.

Please review!


	23. Chapter 23

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **A/N:** For those who missed my updated author's note from the previous chapter, this is NOT a romance. There will NEVER be explicit sex scenes in it.

The events of chapters 20 – 24 were the genesis of my fic. They were the first envisioned, and they remain virtually unchanged since then.

And, yes, the dialog for this chapter was written before any of you posted your comments.

 **Chapter 23**

Molly Weasley sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, guarding the bound and unconscious body of Severus Snape as Remus and the others exited the pensieve. All of them looked shaken, and Tonks appeared slightly green.

"What did you find, Albus?" Molly asked.

Tonks vomited. Molly hurried over, concerned. "Sorry," Tonks said. " _Scourgify_. Merlin, that was horrible. When that snake –"

"Stop!" Sirius interrupted hastily. "If I don't think about it, I can pretend I never saw it." _If only it were that easy,_ Remus thought.

"Severus's version of events was confirmed," Dumbledore replied, "although the exact nature of his duties for Voldemort is not quite what we expected." _That is certainly an understatement._ "I believe, however, that we can finally table the arguments as to his loyalties?" He directed this last question to Moody, who snorted.

"Your pet Death Eater is bloody well shagging Voldemort, and you still insist on his loyalty?" Moody asked, incredulous.

"What?" Molly asked, paling.

"He, er, did not seem to enjoy it," Remus said quietly. He felt ill. "Not at all."

"No one could have enjoyed that," Tonks muttered. Molly stared at Snape as if seeing him for the first time.

"Wake him up," Moody ordered. "I want to question him."

"Alastor –" began Dumbledore.

"You cannot possibly still trust him! He invented lethal curses as dark and vile as any I've seen in decades as an auror. He gave Voldemort good intelligence! He is actually _sleeping_ with the enemy," Moody snarled. " _Ennervate_." Snape's eyes snapped open.

"Care to explain what we saw today, laddie?" Moody asked.

"Release me," Snape demanded.

"Not unless your answers prove satisfactory," Moody replied. Snape glanced at Dumbledore, but he only looked solemn and sad, saying nothing. Snape turned back to Moody.

"I see no reason to explain myself to those who restrain and torture their allies," Snape replied coolly.

"Severus, there is no need to exaggerate –" began Dumbledore.

"You ripped my memories out from me by force, entirely against my will. You claim did it to determine whether I knew of the attack on Potter. You now know that I did not, and yet I remain your prisoner. Tell me, _master_ , if I refuse to answer your questions, will you force yourself into my mind again, or will you simply send me to Azkaban?"

"Severus, my boy, I do trust you," Dumbledore assured him. "We are simply troubled by what we saw. Please, help ease our concerns."

Voice low and dangerous, Snape said, "You have taken it upon yourself to invade the sanctity of my mind, for the sole purpose of titillating the masses." He nodded in the direction of the others. "You must forgive me if I do not consent to give more than you have already stolen. If you trust me as you claim, you will release these restraints and return my wand to me."

Moody removed a small vial from his pocket. Inside was a transparent liquid. _Veritaserum_ , Remus guessed. He stomped over to Snape and forced a mouthful down his throat.

"Alastor!" Dumbledore rebuked.

"Three drops is the maximum recommended dosage," Shacklebolt noted, reproof evident in his tone. "You gave him nearly ten times that amount."

"We were getting nowhere," Moody snapped. "And he's a known occlumens – he can beat a standard dose." He turned to Snape. "Now, your name?"

Snape said nothing. His eyes were closed in concentration, obviously fighting the effects of the veritaserum.

"Your name?" Moody repeated.

"Severus . . . Tobias . . . Snape." The words seemed to be ripped from him.

"Why did you provide Voldemort with new dark curses?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"The curses will . . . keep me in the Dark Lord's good graces, yet will provide no . . . advantages beyond those he already possesses." Snape continued to struggle against the veritaserum.

"You gave him seven new ways to kill!" Moody snapped.

"Exactly," Snape said, his voice growing duller under the potion's effect. "Given that he has hundreds – if not thousands – already at his disposal, adding seven more will hardly affect the war."

"This was not the first time you have created spells for Voldemort," Dumbledore noted.

"No. That is my positon among the Death Eaters, which I must retain in order to spy. I cannot risk it by allowing my competence to suffer."

Dumbledore frowned. "I was under the impression that your membership in Voldemort's Inner Circle was the result of your brewing skills and your work as a spy."

"No, he shagged his way to the top," Sirius snarled. _Oh, Sirius._

"Yes, about that," Moody cut in, "care to explain your little tryst? And why we haven't heard that little tidbit before now?"

"I informed Dumbledore. When I defected fifteen years ago, he inquired how close I was to the Dark Lord. I told him then. He dismissed what I said at the time. I believe he felt I was deluding myself." _Merlin, Severus would have been only about twenty back then. Just a kid, really_ , Remus thought.

All eyes turned to Dumbledore, who seemed frozen by Snape's statement. Finally, he spoke. "I may have . . . misinterpreted your words. I am truly sorry, Severus, for having failed you so completely. Had I known, I would not have asked you to return to him."

"Are you his only catamite, or does he rotate through the other Death Eaters?" Moody asked. Tonks, still slightly green, looked at him sharply.

To Remus's surprise, faint splotches of color appeared on Snape's sallow cheeks, even through the veritaserum's effects. "I am the only one," he said. There was an obvious struggle as Snape again seemed to rebel against the potion, before it forced him to continue. "I know of at least two lovers before I was born, but no others since then."

"Why you?" Everyone turned to look at Remus. _Damn . . . did I say that out loud?_

"The Dark Lord has no interest in me personally. His megalomania seeks a mirror, nothing more."

Remus could think of few people who looked less alike than Snape and Voldemort, either the snakelike monster he was now or the handsome, aristocratic man he had once been. Moody obviously agreed, because he snorted and demanded, "Explain."

"There are sufficient superficial similarities in our histories to appeal to his narcissism."

"Because you're both ugly Dark wizards from Slytherin?" Sirius muttered.

"What similarities?" Moody demanded.

"We were both impoverished half-bloods sorted into Slytherin. We both had a witch mother and a muggle father. My mother suffered from Enobarbus Syndrome. I suspect the Dark Lord's mother died from it. We both killed our fathers at sixteen."

 _Those are more than just superficial similarities_ , Remus reflected.

"You killed your own father at sixteen?" Tonks asked, horrified.

"Why would you do that, Severus?" Dumbledore asked sadly.

"To avenge my mother. He beat her to death on the kitchen table. By then, she was too weak to defend herself. The muggle authorities ignored it. No one cared about a dead housewife in a dead town."

"How many others have you killed?" asked Moody.

"That is enough, Alastor!" Dumbledore cut in, even as Snape answered, "I do not know."

"Severus has provided more than enough explanation for his actions," Dumbledore said firmly, waving his wand to remove Snape's bonds. "Give him the antidote."

Moody looked mutinous for a moment before reaching into a pocket and removing another vial. He tipped some of the contents into Snape's mouth.

Snape's expression immediately twisted into rage. As he snatched his wand from Molly's hands, power seemed to radiate off of him.

"Severus, I apologize for –" Dumbledore began.

"Today you have violated me as surely as the Dark Lord ever has," he interrupted, voice low and deadlier than Remus had ever heard it before. Then he looked up and shouted, "Hellspawn! I surrender! I agree to your terms."

A moment later, Snape was on fire.

Everyone backed away from him hurriedly, yet Snape, still covered in flames, appeared unharmed. Remus could only stare, dumbstruck until the bright light of the fire forced him to turn away.

"Come. We have a prisoner to rescue," Snape said, and then he was gone.

Where he had been standing, a single red and gold feather drifted to the floor.

-DVDVDV-

As soon as he was given the antidote, Severus felt the numbing effects of the veritaserum overdose fade. In its place, fury and betrayal such as he had not felt in years filled him. He seized his wand from Molly Weasley's hands.

"Severus, I apologize for –" Dumbledore began.

"Today you have violated me as surely as the Dark Lord ever has," Severus interrupted. _Nothing that you can say can forgive this, old man. I gave you_ everything _in exchange for your promise to protect Lily. Yet still she died. Later, I swore my continued service to protect her worthless son, asking you only to let me retain my privacy. Today, you broke those terms. Twice broken, never mended._

Severus looked up. The phoenix had, as usual, refused to enter Grimmauld Place. _No matter._ He shouted, "Hellspawn! I surrender! I agree to your terms." _I will have my vengeance, no matter the cost._

The moment he called, the phoenix appeared. Severus felt a jolt of power flow from the creature to him. Flames covered him, yet he did not burn. All of the texts he had read had described phoenix fire as a comforting warmth.

They were wrong.

Perhaps if Severus had accepted the phoenix when he had first appeared, it would have been different. None of his extensive research had found anything to suggest that phoenixes remained invisible to others before bonding. From that, he suspected that either very few had ever refused an offer to bond, or else his phoenix was more stubborn than most. Severus had been at his emotional nadir when he met the phoenix. The phoenix's fires might have felt comforting then, a welcoming hearth after a long, cold day.

He was in a very different mindset now.

His rage and the phoenix fire burned as one. They consumed him. He blazed, a figure of wrath and pain and vengeance.

The treacherous Order backed away from him in fear, as was only right.

"Come. We have a prisoner to rescue," Severus said.

The Half-Blood Prince had made his choice.

A/N:

Please review!


	24. Chapter 24

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 24**

With a flash of flame, Severus and the phoenix appeared on a stony path. A towering, jet black fortress dominated the skyline in front of them, about half a mile's walk away. Carved in massive letters over the gated entrance were the German words, legible even at this distance, " **For the Greater Good**." They had arrived near Nurmengard Prison.

Severus reached into a pocket and extracted a tube with a single long, silvery hair. He added it to a vial of polyjuice, which turned a shocking purple color. He drank.

"Albus Dumbledore" swiftly transfigured his black robes into an eye-watering orange with fuchsia polka dots. He mentally reviewed the contents of his pockets, and then smiled. _Perfect_. He added a few drops of a light pink potion to the contents of a tin, and then, phoenix perched upon his shoulder, he began to walk leisurely towards the prison.

"You can now be seen?" Severus asked quietly. "And heard?"

 _"_ _Yes, at long last,"_ the phoenix replied. He sounded delighted. _"_ _Although others will only hear a trill. Think of it like selective parseltongue."_ Well, that explained why he never heard Fawkes "speak" to him.

A thought struck him. "Do you have a name?"

 _"_ _Fourteen years, and only now you ask?"_ The phoenix laughed. _"_ _You named me when we bonded. I am Hellspawn, from now until you die."_ He seemed amused by this.

They reached the entrance. Two figures dressed in the dark red robes of German aurors stood outside. They had raised their wands at Severus's approach, but lowered them when they recognized Dumbledore.

 **"** **Supreme Mugwump?"** one of the aurors asked in German. The second stared, awe-struck, at the phoenix.

 **"** **Hello, my boy,"** Severus replied in the same language. **"** **If it is not too much trouble, might I have a few words with your prisoner? I believe that I am still on the approved list."**

The aurors glanced at one another.

 **"** **One moment, please, sir,"** said the first. **"Schueller, check with Hertz."** The second auror looked disappointed, but opened the gate a fraction and hurried inside. **"** **My apologies, sir, but we must follow protocol."**

 **"** **Of course, my boy, of course. I do not imagine you see many visitors here, after all,"** Severus replied genially.

" **No, very few** ," the auror agreed, smiling. " **We have only the one prisoner, after all."**

The other auror returned a few minutes later, for which Severus was grateful. He knew that his skill at small talk was virtually non-existent, and he was running out of pleasant comments to make about the weather.

 **"** **Please come this way, sir,"** the second auror said, his face shining with hero worship. **"Grindelwald is at the very top of the fortress."** The auror led Severus through the stone halls, up a long, twisting staircase. Finally, they reached the top of the fortress. They stood outside a thick stone door.

 **"** **I hope you don't mind, sir, but I'll need to remain with you while you speak with the prisoner. Not that we don't trust you,"** the auror added hurriedly. **"** **You're a great hero to us here. But it's procedure."** He shrugged helplessly.

 **"** **Not at all, not at all, my boy,"** Severus replied.

 **"** **If you don't mind me asking, sir, what brings you here today? I don't think you've visited the prisoner before now?"** the auror asked hesitantly.

 **"** **No, I have not seen Gellert in many years. One of my students came into contact with a cursed text that I believe once belonged to him.** **I am hoping he might know how to counteract it.** **Otherwise, I fear the poor girl may never recover."**

The auror grimaced. **"It is horrible that, even so long after his reign of terror, that his evils still remain in the world."**

 **"** **Indeed, my boy, indeed."**

 _"_ _Your saccharine sweetness is making me feel ill,"_ the phoenix commented. _"For the record, just because we've bonded does not mean you have to act like him when you're no longer polyjuiced."_

The auror turned to the phoenix and smiled. _No, he definitely cannot understand what was said._

 **"** **Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"** Severus asked, reaching into his pocket and offering a tin. The auror looked at it, confused. **"** **A muggle confection I am rather fond of."**

The auror grinned sheepishly, but took one. **"Thank you."** He put it in his mouth, and then opened the door to reveal a dark and ominous room. A small stone bed took up one corner. Sitting in it, covered by a thin blanket, was a frail, skeletal figure. His face was sunken and skull-like. Despite this, the man beamed at seeing them, revealing missing teeth.

 **"** **Albus?"** he asked, surprised. **"Is that you, my old friend?"** His eyes flickered with recognition to the phoenix.

 **"** **Hello, Gellert,"** Severus replied. **"** **Alas, I am not here for a social call. I have come to discuss a curse you placed on** ** _Die Alte Hexe_** **.** **A young girl has fallen gravely ill as a result."**

Beside him, the auror yawned.

Severus saw the flicker of understanding cross Grindelwald's face. **"** **It has been many long decades since I have held a book, let alone placed any curses upon them. I fear my memory might not be as it once was."**

 _Good, keep stalling just a little longer._ **"It appears to be a wasting curse, sapping the –"**

The auror collapsed to the floor. Severus took his wand. **"** **What must I do to free you?"** he asked.

"And what if I do not wish to be freed?" Grindelwald asked, switching to English. "I deserve punishment for my crimes."

"Nothing can undo the evils you have helped to create," Severus agreed. "However, simply contemplating your sins is not penance."

"What has happened?"

Severus was not a Slytherin for nothing. He could see the curiosity in those sunken eyes. "Come with me, and I will tell you."

Grindelwald hesitated, and then turned to the phoenix. "You have bonded with him at last, Loki, my old friend?"

 _"_ _Yes,"_ the phoenix replied happily. _"You should call me Hellspawn now, though."_

"You finally bond with him, yet give him such a title?" Grindelwald asked.

"I am no less damned than you," Severus replied.

Grindelwald considered this for a moment. He pointed at the wall to his left. "Destroy the wall. It is heavily fortified, and may require a few attempts to break. That will cancel the runic array preventing human apparation."

Severus channeled the rage that still burned within him. He pointed the auror's wand at the wall. " _Reducto!_ " The wall exploded. Grindelwald raised his eyebrows appreciatively. Severus dropped the auror's wand, and then held out his arm. Grindelwald took it.

There was a _crack_ and a burst of fire, and they were gone.

-DVDVDV-

When reinforcements arrived several minutes later, they found an unconscious auror surrounded by rubble from the blasted stone wall. A single red and gold phoenix feather blew gently across the room.

A/N:

Please review!


	25. Chapter 25

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 25**

After Severus's dramatic departure from Order headquarters, Albus Dumbledore excused himself to consider what had happened. _Severus, what are you doing now? Who are you going to rescue? What terrible deal have you made?_

He regretted, now, stopping Moody's interrogation. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing, the humane thing, to do. But he was a war leader now, not a mere teacher. There was too much as stake to allow for uncertainties. _If nothing else, I should have confirmed whether or not Severus is a seer._

Albus returned to the pensieve, reviewing his past conversations with his temperamental spy. To his chagrin, he confirmed that Severus had indeed told him about the nature of his relationship with Voldemort.

Dumbledore watched as his past self asked a much younger Severus Snape, "What are your typical duties for Voldemort?"

At the name, his newly turned spy flinched. Nevertheless, he replied, "I joined the Inner Circle nearly two years ago. Occasionally, I am sent on raids, but I mainly provide him with new inventions – potions, primarily, but also some spells. The Dark Lord sometimes also has me come to him . . . intimately." Dumbledore watched as splotches of color appeared on the pale cheeks. Now, Albus could see that Severus seemed highly uncomfortable, embarrassed to be admitting this information. Yet in the memory, Albus had simply waved it aside.

"I know that Voldemort can be highly charismatic, that he may appear to favor certain of his followers. But, my boy, do not fool yourself into thinking that he cares for you."

Albus had thought that Severus researched new potions, perhaps found forgotten spells in old books. He had not given Severus the credit he deserved. He had labeled Voldemort as asexual, and therefore assumed too quickly that the young man was simply bragging that Voldemort trusted him enough to let him into his confidence.

 _What else have I missed?_

Quite a lot, it seemed. He saw again how, near the end of his second year at Hogwarts, the young Severus had asked to remain at school over the summer holidays. Albus had gently refused, explaining that it was against Hogwarts policy. The child had pleaded with him to let his cat, at least, stay behind. Yet Albus had denied that, too. Watching now, Albus could see the dead, defeated look in the child's eyes when he was refused. But at the time, he had only seen another Tom Riddle, dark and manipulative.

When Severus returned for his third year, he was too pale, too thin. He did not have a cat.

Albus was about to enter a third memory when he Arthur Weasley's patronus suddenly appeared.

 _"_ _Grindelwald has escaped from Nurmengard. The Ministry's in an uproar._ _Fudge is claiming you were involved."_

Albus felt his heart flutter. _Gellert? Why now, after all these years?_

And then realization hit. _Severus, what have you done?_

-DVDVDV-

 _DARK LORD GRINDELWALD ESCAPES NURMENGARD!_

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IMPLICATED_

 _July 31, 1995_

 _Nurmengard, Germany – Notorious Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald escaped from Nurmengard Prison late afternoon yesterday. Rising to power in the 1930s, Grindelwald led a reign of terror throughout Europe that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of witches and wizards, as well as the demise of countless muggles. His meteoric ascent was only halted in 1945, when Albus Dumbledore defeated him in the duel that launched him from an eccentric academic to a major power on the world stage._

 _And yet, incredibly, it appears that none other than Dumbledore is implicated in the escape from Nurmengard, the prison that Grindelwald himself built and which kept him safely confined for nearly five decades._

 _Sources inside the German Ministry of Magic report that aurors stationed at Nurmengard met with Dumbledore yesterday afternoon. Accompanied by his distinctive phoenix familiar, Dumbledore requested a meeting with his former nemesis. By virtue of his status as Chief Mugwump and the vanquisher of Grindelwald, he was granted access._

 _Shortly thereafter, there was an explosion at the top of the prison. By the time reinforcements arrived, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald were nowhere to be seen._

 _Not much is known after this. One of the aurors on duty was reportedly found unconscious in Grindelwald's cell, which had one of its walls destroyed by a powerful blasting curse. Mediwizards found traces of a sleeping potion in the auror's system, which they believe was administered through a lemon-flavored muggle candy._

 _"_ _A single phoenix feather was discovered at the scene," claimed one German Ministry official, who asked to remain anonymous as he was not cleared to speak about an ongoing investigation._

 _Due to concerns about rising senility, Dumbledore was recently forced to step down as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and calls have been made to replace him as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Could Dumbledore have freed Grindelwald in an attempt to relive his glory days?_

 _"_ _It is entirely possible," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confided to this reporter. "Why, just last month, he tried to sell a yarn about You-Know-Who being back! Given that obvious falsehood, he must have felt he needed to resort to more desperate measures to cling to power."_

Albus Dumbledore set down the _Daily Prophet_ with shaking hands. After fifty years, Gellert had finally escaped from Nurmengard. He had not seen his former friend – his former lover – in nearly forty-five years. He had stopped visiting after the first few years. He had had too much to do, and the memories raised were too painful.

He had spent the previous day desperately trying to salvage the situation. He had been very well framed indeed. Severus's betrayal was a masterpiece. _No one will ever believe it was an impostor because no impostor would have a phoenix._ He remembered what Severus had said when bottling the boggart: "I can envision several uses for this particular specimen." _Polyjuice and a boggart . . . how long did you plan this, Severus?_

 _Why, Severus? Why did you do it? I know that our actions yesterday hurt you, but surely you could understand how they were necessary?_

It had taken all of Albus's considerable skills at diplomacy to avoid being charged. He had – barely – managed to convince the German Ministry of Magic that he, too, had been rendered unconscious by a tainted sherbet lemon. He claimed that Fawkes had transported him to safety, and that he awoke back in England to the news that Grindelwald had escaped.

 _Will Gellert join Voldemort? Or will they set themselves against one another, leaving the world to burn in their wake?_

Fawkes flew from his perch and settled on his shoulder.

"Oh, Fawkes, what am I to do?" Albus murmured.

 _"_ _Fight the good fight,"_ the phoenix replied. _"_ _Remember, it is always darkest before the dawn."_

"Everything I have worked for is falling apart. Gellert is free, and I do not know if I can bear to fight him again. Voldemort is as strong as ever. Our best-placed spy has betrayed us and destroyed my reputation in the process. We lost so many in the last war. Without Severus's knowledge of Voldemort's plans, we may not survive this time."

 _"_ _Are you certain he will not return to you?"_ Fawkes asked gently. _"_ _You may be underestimating his character."_

Albus thought again over his actions yesterday, of what he had seen in the pensieve. He had treated Severus terribly. Worse, he had done so publically, before those whom Severus loathed. _But we needed to be certain. Surely, Severus, you must realize that we didn't want to invade your privacy. We simply needed to know._

 _Will you return to the Light after this? Or will you go back to Voldemort? Do you love him, in your way?_

 _Why did you go to Gellert? To hurt me? To help Voldemort? Or do you simply seek a new master?_

 _What do I do now?_

A/N:

For some reason, with chapters 23 and 24, reviews are not showing up directly on fanfiction dot net, nor is it letting me send PMs directly from your reviews. However, I am still able to view them (and read them) in my email alerts. Please don't let this discourage you – I love seeing your comments!


	26. Chapter 26

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 26**

Gellert and his companions apparated into a large metal crate. A small cot sat in one corner. Across from it were a mid-sized cauldron and small workstation. The only other contents were two small wooden boxes.

"Lovely," Gellert said drily. "Another prison cell."

"If Dumbledore does not have my house under surveillance yet, he will shortly. I apologize, Lord Grindelwald, if my safe house does not meet your usual standards," Severus Snape retorted. Although the voice was Albus's, the tone certainly was not. "Now sit on the bed. I need to run some diagnostics."

Gellert raised an eyebrow, but complied. Loki – _No, his name is Hellspawn now_ – flew to him, and he absently stroked the phoenix's head. "I think that, under the circumstances, you can call me Gellert. We have, after all, been corresponding for quite some time now. Although, I must say, it is rather bizarre to meet you at last while you wear Albus's face."

Severus blinked. " _Finite supremum_ ," he said, waving his wand. Albus's features – and those dreadfully garish clothes – vanished, replaced by stark black robes and younger, harsher lines. Gellert could admit, if only to himself, that he had dreamt of his distant friend being a dashing, handsome young man, perhaps a bit like a young Albus before they had their falling out. Such was not the case. Greasy black hair hung like limp curtains to frame a sallow, gaunt face. His lips too thin, his nose far too large for his face . . . no, Severus Snape was certainly not handsome.

Yet for all that the man lacked in aesthetics, he had _presence_. Gellert could feel his aura as an almost tangible thing. It radiated power and menace. It was cold, and yet it blazed, a fury that could see the world burn.

Gellert decided that he liked the young man.

Severus ran his wand over him and murmured a few spells. "You are severely malnourished, and are suffering some liver and kidney damage. I can repair those easily enough. I can either regrow your missing teeth or supply you with false ones, as you prefer."

"Regrow them, please," Gellert replied. "I don't suppose you can do anything for my hair?" He watched, amused, as the young man frowned as his vanity. _Or is it simply the challenge?_

"Yes," Severus said at last. "Once your other ailments have been addressed, I can supply a topical to regrow your hair."

Gellert smiled. "Many thanks, my friend." Severus raised an eyebrow at that.

 _"_ _You have to admit he's your friend now,"_ Hellspawn said. _"Since you've finally met him in person. No more excuses."_ Severus ignored the phoenix, who added as an aside to Gellert, _"_ _He's always like this."_ Gellert chucked.

Severus handed him three bottles. "You will need to drink the nutrient potion three times a day for at least a week. Take one dose of Liver Elixir now and again in four days. Drink the skelegrow tonight to repair your teeth." He pointed his wand at Gellert. " _Medeor Ren_." Gellert felt something shift inside him. Severus ran another diagnostic. "Your kidneys should be fine now."

"Thank you again. Now, tell me what has happened, and what you plan for us to do about it."

-DVDVDV-

An hour later, and with a tentative plan worked out with Gellert, Severus pressed his wand to the Dark Mark on his left arm, signifying that he had news for the Dark Lord's attention. He felt the answering burn, and apparated to his erstwhile master.

"Back so soon, Severussss," Voldemort hissed. "It hasss been only a day."

"Apologies, master," Severus said, kneeling, "but I have uncovered information that I believe you will find valuable."

"You presume much, my servant," Voldemort said, voice dangerous. "But speak."

"My Lord, since my last summons, two events of note have occurred. For the first, the Order reports that Potter was attacked by dementors outside his relatives' home."

"You are certain of this, Severusss?" Voldemort interrupted.

"Yes, my Lord. The ex-auror Moody was present and prevented the Kiss. Potter is now safely ensconced at the Order's headquarters."

"Who could have ordered thissss?" Voldemort rose from his throne and began to pace angrily. _So it wasn't the Dark Lord at all. Not that the Order would ever believe me if I told them as much._ "You said there were two itemsss. What is the second?"

"My Lord, Gellert Grindelwald has escaped from Nurmengard Prison."

"No!" And Severus's nerves were on fire. He fought to prevent a scream as he fell, twitching, to the floor. An eternity later, Voldemort released the spell. Severus crawled back into a kneeling position.

"My Lord," Severus continued, his breathing ragged, "Dumbledore has been linked to the escape. I was with him when it supposedly took place, but the initial reports place him in Nurmengard at the time." _It is highly unlikely that Dumbledore would have left Grimmauld Place immediately after my interrogation, so I doubt anyone outside the Order will be able to contradict this chain of events._

"Someone framed him?" Voldemort seemed delighted. "Do you know anything more?"

"No, my Lord. Dumbledore dismissed me to deal with the crisis, and I immediately came to report to you."

"Your arm." Severus presented it, and Voldemort pressed his wand to the Dark Mark. A minute later, four masked and cloaked Death Eater apparated into the room. They knelt.

"Severusss here bearsss some most interesting tidingssss. Grindelwald has escaped from Nurmengard, and someone impersonating Dumbledore was likely involved." Even hidden behind their masks and cloaks, their shock was apparent. "Luciusss and McNair, you will discover all that you can from your Ministry sources. Insinuate that Dumbledore was truly responsible.

"It is time to accelerate our plansss. We shall use this confusion as an opportunity to free my loyal followersss from Azkaban. Nott and Avery, tomorrow night, you will lead the rescue partiessss."

"As you will," Lucius said. The others murmured agreement. "My Lord, forgive me for asking, but how should we proceed if we encounter Grindelwald or his supporters?"

"If he choosesss to ally himself with us, then he may live. If not, he shall be destroyed, as are all who oppose Lord Voldemort. You are dismissed."

-DVDVDV-

There was a brief flash of flame in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. A short note written in Severus's hand remained in its wake. _Death Eaters, led by Nott and Avery, to assault Azkaban tomorrow night._ In the chaos from Arthur Weasley's patronus, only Sirius noticed it appear. He read it and scoffed. _As if we should trust anything Snivellus says. Bloody traitor._ He pocketed the note and forgot about it.

Two days later, _The Daily Prophet_ headline read:

 _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_

 _GRINDELWALD RECRUITING YOU-KNOW-WHO'S FORMER FOLLOWERS?_

 _COULD DUMBLEDORE BE INVOLVED?_

A/N:

For those concerned that Grindelwald is too willing to help Severus, keep in mind that they have been corresponding (through Hellspawn) for a very long time now. For Grindelwald, Severus is a longstanding penpal and, more importantly, Severus and Hellspawn were pretty much his only outside contacts while he was in prison.

And the review system is back to normal!


	27. Chapter 27

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 27**

Hermione Granger did not know what to do.

Gellert Grindelwald had escaped from Nurmengard, and everyone in the Order of Phoenix seemed to think that Professor Snape was responsible. There had been some sort of confrontation with him earlier, which was somehow related to the attack on Harry. _But it doesn't make any sense for Professor Snape to have been involved in that. He's always protected Harry before now, even if he_ does _try to get Harry in trouble. And why would he have saved me and my family if he's not really on our side?_

None of the adults were telling them anything. She'd tried asking her parents, but they knew only as much as she did. _They might be adults, but they're still muggles. The Order won't let them in on their secrets._ That realization did little to ease her thoughts. _Even the good side is prejudiced._

Mrs. Weasley, pale-faced and trembling, had forbidden her children to be alone in a room with Snape ("Like we would even want to," Ron had muttered darkly), but she had not given any explanation.

Using the Weasley twins' Extendable Ears, she and the others had picked up a few bits and pieces. Apparently, some of the Order had seen Snape's memories, and found some very unsettling things. Unfortunately, no one seemed willing to discuss the specifics where they could overhear.

Snape had somehow apparated out of Grimmauld Place, although no one should be able to apparate in or out (apparating inside was a different matter, as Hermione had learned when the twins first apparated from their room to Harry's and Ron's). He had called for "hellspawn" and then been set on fire, yet he had not burnt.

Hermione remembered the one-sided conversation she had overheard at Snape's house, and thought back to the many warded books on demonology. _Had Professor Snape made some sort of Faustian bargain? Should I tell anyone? He might be dangerous . . . or in danger._ Harry and Ron both hated Snape, and the recent events seemed only to solidify their opinions. "He's evil, Hermione," Harry had snapped angrily when she had tried to defend him.

"He saved my family," she said softly.

"To trick everyone into thinking he's on our side!" Harry shouted. "He framed Sirius for the murder of those two Death Eaters! He rescued Grindelwald from prison, and you still want to trust him? If he's really on our side, why didn't he warn us about the attack on me? Or the Azkaban breakout?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Harry," Hermione retorted. "We don't know that he was involved at all. How many times have we suspected Professor Snape, only to be proven wrong? How many times has he saved us?"

Harry had refused to speak to her since then. Ron, naturally, had taken Harry's side.

 _I won't tell anyone what I saw. Not yet. I promised I would be better behaved towards him, and I will. Everyone else is condemning him in absentia. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, at least until he has a chance to explain._

 _I just hope I'm not making a mistake._

-DVDVDV-

Kreacher watched as his disgraceful master and his blood traitor friends scurried about his mistress's house. _Oh, they are panicking now,_ Kreacher thought happily. _Serves the mudblood lovers right. If only my poor mistress could see them now, how she would laugh and laugh. The beggar Prince has given them what they deserved, oh yes, he has. Kreacher needs to speak with him alone, but he is never alone when he comes to my mistress's house, and Kreacher is forbidden to leave. Kreacher must wait. Kreacher must keep his promise to Master Regulus._

-DVDVDV-

A week after his escape, Gellert was feeling – and looking – better than he had in decades. Severus's bedside manner was virtually non-existent, and by his own admission he was not a qualified mediwizard, but through necessity he had an excellent handle on standard healing spells, and his potions expertise was second to none.

Still too thin but no longer skeletal, Gellert ran a hand through his regrown hair. He smiled, showing his new white teeth. He considered Severus, who was busy preparing ingredients at the small workstation on the other side of the room. _Why does he not take as much care of himself?_ He resolved to ask Hellspawn when next they were alone.

Despite the man's lack of concern for his own health, Gellert was pleased with his co-conspirator. Severus was obviously a meticulous planner. He knew what he wanted and he would sacrifice whatever was necessary to achieve it, regardless of the cost. _The ends justify the means . . . for the Greater Good._

 _At least Severus's ends don't include mass slaughter._

Severus would see the current British dark lord killed. To this, Gellert had no objections. From what he had heard from Hellspawn over the years, Riddle was obviously insane. Gellert absolutely refused to call him "the Dark Lord" – as if there had been only one – and he knew that hearing the name "Voldemort" caused Severus physical pain. As a compromise, they had agreed to refer to him as "Tom Riddle," which was apparently the wizard's original name.

Severus would also see Albus Dumbledore destroyed. Gellert felt more ambivalent here. On the one hand, he still loved Albus, and perhaps always would. He fondly remembered meeting another wizard of his caliber, both magical and intellectual. _Could I have been as great as I was without him?_ On the other hand, he loathed Albus. The man had, in the end, been too weak to do what was necessary. He had stopped Gellert right before his ultimate triumph. All of those people dead, and for nothing. _The ends justify the means, but you stopped me before the ends could be reached. I was so very close, and now all my crimes - all those dead at my command – were for nothing._

And Albus had stopped visiting after the first five years. _That_ had hurt. _We might have hated one another in the end, Albus, but we were – and are – still connected. I had no one else in Nurmengard save the auror guards, and they rarely deigned to speak with me. I nearly went mad there. Only occlumency and, later, Severus kept me sane._

He would help Severus destroy Albus. It would hurt, but Albus had hurt him first.

To his surprise, Severus had very few goals beyond those two. Gellert had asked him his plans should he succeed, should the war be won and both his enemies defeated. Severus had looked surprised for a moment, before shrugging. "To be left alone," he had said.

 _And what do I want? I do not wish to return to Nurmengard, for all that I accept that my crimes warrant it. History considers me one of the great monsters. For all that I prefer infamy over obscurity, I would rather be remembered more positively. All the good I have done in my life is forgotten due to my evils._

 _Fighting against a new dark lord will help my reputation._

"Severus, would you help me to fake my death?" he asked. "After Riddle and Albus are dealt with, of course?"

Severus did not even glance up from his brewing. "Certainly, if that is what you wish."

 _No one is as loved as a villain redeemed. And no one is more heroic than a martyr._

-DVDVDV-

Severus had left to administer some potions to help heal the prisoners rescued from Azkaban. Gellert took the opportunity to ask Hellspawn why the man did not take proper care of himself. The answer had chilled him. Enobarbus Syndrome. _Severus is fighting a broken heart._

 **"** **But now that you and he have bonded, surely he should recover?"** Gellert asked.

 _"_ _He is a human, not a house elf,"_ the phoenix replied. Gellert could hear the pain in the mental voice. _"_ _A house elf must bond, but a human must love and be loved in return. Through our bond, I can slow his degradation, but that is all."_

 **"** **Is there nothing else that can be done?"**

 _"_ _Severus occludes almost constantly, which suppresses much of his depression. Beyond that, he has created a potion to treat it, but it is only partially effective. It prevents the loss of his magic, but does not significantly reduce the other symptoms, hence the physical decay. The bond should help, granting him some more time."_

 **"** **How much time?"**

 _"_ _It depends,"_ Hellspawn hedged. _"He's been working to improve his potion, so it's hard to say."_

 **"** **How much time?"** Gellert asked again.

 _"_ _He might live to see forty."_ The phoenix did not sound optimistic.

Severus was only thirty-five. _Five more years._ _And that's only if he's lucky._ Gellert closed his eyes in grief.

 _"_ _Do not raise it with him, or anyone else"_ Hellspawn pleaded. _"_ _He already knows, and it would only make things worse."_ Gellert reluctantly agreed. He owed the other man his sanity through the long years of incarceration. He would keep his silence.

A/N:

Over 300 reviews! Thanks, everyone!


	28. Chapter 28

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 28**

Diagon Alley was bustling with nervous shoppers as Severus and Gellert apparated. Scattered throughout the shopping area were several wanted posters for Grindelwald and the escaped Death Eaters. _I hope this trip was not a mistake. But I need a wand that suits me._ Before leaving the storage crate that served as a safe house, they had transfigured Gellert's features. Severus had polyjuiced himself as a blond Dutch muggle.

They entered Ollivander's. The shop was narrow and shabby, with thousands of boxes piled throughout the small space. A thin layer of dust covered the room.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," a voice said from behind them. Severus and Gellert turned, although neither had been startled.

"Mister Ollivander," Severus greeted, inclining his head slightly. His polyjuiced voice betrayed a slight Dutch accent.

"Severus Snape, hazel and unicorn hair, thirteen and a quarter inches. A highly loyal combination." Severus showed no surprise at being recognized despite his precautions. He had warned Gellert that Ollivander would likely recognize him by his wand signature as soon as he entered.

"My associate here requires a new wand," Severus said coolly. "And your discretion."

Ollivander stared at them for a moment, unblinking. "I am neutral in all conflicts. I do not believe your last wand was one of mine?" he asked, turning to Gellert.

"No," Gellert replied. "My most recent wand was made of Elder, fifteen inches, with an unknown core. Prior to that, I had a Gregorovich wand, dogwood and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches."

Ollivander blinked. From Severus's descriptions of the man, Gellert understood this to be a rare – and possibly unique – occurrence.

"Elder? You wielded a wand made of elder?" he asked. "With an unknown core?"

Gellert smiled. "I did. But, alas, it is no longer in my possession."

Ollivander looked as if he wanted to ask more questions, but a glance at Severus's expression prevented him. Instead, he asked, "Wand arm?"

"My left," Gellert replied easily, amused by the wandmaker's curiosity. "In addition, we have brought a potential core with us. If it is not a suitable match, then no matter. But should we prove compatible, I would greatly desire a wand that includes it as a component." This had been the compromise they had made with Hellspawn. No longer invisible, the phoenix would attract far too much unwanted attention should he accompany them. In exchange for remaining behind during their excursion, Gellert had promised to incorporate a tail feather in his new wand if at all possible.

Gellert withdrew a small box from his pocket and presented it to Ollivander, who opened it. He raised his eyebrows at seeing the phoenix feather. He examined it intently for a moment, and then stared at Gellert.

"Yes, yes I can work with this. Phoenix feather and maple, or perhaps acacia? Yes, I can see a strong connection between you and the donor of this feather. Return in an hour, and I should have a wand ready for you then."

They left the shop.

"Robes?" Gellert asked.

Severus sighed. "If you must."

"I can hardly continue wearing your things, my friend. You are taller and, forgive me, more restricted in your fashion sense than I. Besides, I believe that transfiguration can only take you so far if this plan is to succeed." He nodded at Severus's robes, which had been transfigured to appear a pleasant green with yellow trim.

Severus sighed, but agreed. Gellert amused himself by examining the latest fashions at Madame Malkins' Robes for All Occasions. He might not share Albus's absurd fashion sense, but he understood the importance of being well turned out. He selected a dozen robes for himself, including two sets of dress robes. He made certain that he could move easily in all of them. Combat, at some point, was a certainty.

He noted that Severus only selected two sets of robes. They were simple, yet elegant, and could almost double as dress robes. Gellert smiled. _Robes fit for a prince._

Severus paid for their purchases, and they returned to Ollivander's.

"Acacia with phoenix feather. Thirteen inches. A rare combination. Good for runes and second chances," Ollivander said, handing Gellert the freshly crafted wand and giving him an assessing look. Gellert felt a rush of warmth as he waved the wand, and phoenix song rang through the shop. "Yes, a good match," Ollivander said, satisfied. "Use it wisely, Lord Grindelwald."

Gellert smiled and raised a finger to his lips. Ollivander nodded. "I keep my word, and my silence. That will be seven galleons. Good day, gentlemen."

-DVDVDV-

Severus knocked on the door of Grimmauld Place, his wand already drawn. A minute later, Molly Weasley opened the door.

"You!" she shrieked. She hurriedly tried to close the door.

" _Petrificus totalus_ ," Severus said lazily. Her limbs snapped together, and she fell to the floor with a thud. Her eyes darted back and forth, terrified.

"Though I doubt you will believe me, I come in peace. I have a message to relay to Headmaster Dumbledore, and then I shall depart, leaving you unharmed. Is the Headmaster present?" Severus stared into her frozen face for a moment. "No? A pity. In that case, I suggest he view this memory in a pensieve.

"Albus Dumbledore, by now you believe that I have betrayed you. No doubt that is why you failed to act when I warned you of the Dark Lord's impending assault on Azkaban. I ask only that you consider two points. First, the circumstances of my initial service were always conditional on a promise on your part, a promise that you failed to uphold. Later, at your urging, I swore to protect Potter, and, despite my loathing for the boy, I fully intend to honor that commitment. However, his protection does not require that I bow to you.

"Second, is a man a traitor when he was the first betrayed? While I have grown accustomed to poor treatment at your hands, your recent actions violated any trust that lay between us. Had Lupin or Black been accused, as I was, would you have subjected them to the same treatment? Your actions towards me were no better than the Dark Lord's, for all that you claim to reject his methods. You simply choose different scapegoats.

"Nevertheless, you may be assured that, unlike you, I honor my oaths. You may have wondered where I was this past week. I have not been idle. I have identified the half-blood whom you mentioned at the end of term, and have been entrusted to arrange a meeting between you.

"I leave Molly Weasley with a magical contract to present to you. Should you accept, you and one associate may meet with this individual at noon tomorrow, at one of three potential neutral locations. Note whichever of these you prefer in the contract. Once signed, it will be transported to the gentleman in question.

"Understand that while I bear no friendship for you, I accept that the enemy of my enemy is my ally."

Severus removed a sealed envelope from a pocket, and carefully placed it atop Molly Weasley's prone body.

" _Finite incantatum_ ," he said. He disapparated before she could call for assistance.

A/N:

From the Harry Potter wiki, acacia wands are associated with subtle, gifted wizards. They are rarely linked to "bangs-and-smells magic." Hazel wands are extremely loyal, and the hazel / unicorn combination will almost always "wilt" when their wielder dies.

Please review!


	29. Chapter 29

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 29**

Molly Weasley ran upstairs to check on the children. They were still busy cleaning one of the old guest bedrooms. She relaxed. _Snape didn't hurt them._ Reassured, she sent her patronus – a mother hen – to Dumbledore. To her immense relief, he arrived only a few minutes later.

"Molly," he greeted. "What has happened?"

"S-Snape," she stammered. "He petrified me! He wanted me to give you a message."

"My dear, I think you need a cup of tea." Dumbledore waved his wand, and a steaming cup appeared. He handed it to her. Molly took it, her hands trembling. "Now, what was Severus's message?"

"He wanted you to see it. In your pensieve, I mean" Molly said, feeling calmer now that Dumbledore was here. "And he wanted me to give you this." She handed him the envelope.

"Thank you, my dear. If I may?" Molly nodded, and Dumbledore pressed his wand gently against her temple. There was a slight tugging sensation, and then Dumbledore removed his wand, a silvery thread attached to it. He took the pensieve from the kitchen counter, and then dove in.

He emerged shortly thereafter. "If true, this is most reassuring. Despite recent events, we may not have lost one of our greatest resources in this war."

"But he freed Grindelwald!" Molly exclaimed.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Innocent until proven guilty, Molly. We merely suspect, with good evidence, but even so. And his new contact may prove our key to victory." Dumbledore opened the envelope and scanned the contents. He smiled sadly. "Yes, we might yet be able to come away from this setback victorious."

-DVDVDV-

Albus gathered the Order of the Phoenix together. "My friends, I bear good news." The assembled witches and wizards began murmuring excitedly. They had had little to celebrate lately. "A potential major ally has contacted us, and with his help, we might be able to make significant strides in our campaign about Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Who is it, Albus?" Remus asked.

"A prince," he replied, eyes twinkling. He noted that Minerva seemed immediately to understand the reference. Sirius frowned, no doubt recalling the conversation he and Albus had had earlier. Alas, the book of wizarding genealogies had proven futile. There was a Prince family mentioned, but it had died out decades ago. "A prince has asked to meet with me and one other Order member on neutral ground to discuss the war effort.

"Moreover, I have reason to hope that we have not entirely lost Severus as our spy. He was kind enough to arrange this meeting, as I had requested of him prior to his . . . disappearance." Albus had placed Severus's house at Spinner's End under Order surveillance, but he had not been seen since his abrupt departure from Grimmauld Place until his surprising meeting with Molly earlier that day.

"And you think you can trust him?" Alastor demanded. "Snape's betrayed us six ways to Sunday. This is bound to be a trap."

"He provided a binding magical contract guaranteeing safe passage," Albus replied, handing it to Alastor, who immediately began examining it. "And it also attests that we will be meeting the prince we have been seeking. We must trust in the prince, Alastor. If we do not, things might become far worse. I do not say this lightly."

"He's right," Minerva interjected. She did not seem happy about it. Albus wondered if she was still angry with him. His imagined that his ears were still ringing from the scolding she had given him last week after she had learned what he and the others had done to Severus.

Alastor nodded. "Contract seems genuine enough. Still think it's a ruddy fool idea to believe the greasy bastard, especially after that business with Grindelwald and now the Azkaban breakout."

"On that note, Severus claims that he sent us warning of the pending escape. I do not recall receiving any such missive. Did anyone else?" Albus asked. _This would be a good test of Severus's loyalties. If he had been lying . . . ._

There were murmurs of dissent from the assembled Order members. Albus sighed. He had so hoped that Severus was not lost.

He noticed a flicker of something – _consternation, perhaps?_ – cross Sirius's face, before it vanished.

"Sirius?" Albus asked. "Did you remember something?"

"No, nothing," Sirius replied hastily. _Too hastily_ , Albus thought.

"Sirius?" he asked again, tone sharper. "What happened?"

Sirius flushed. "Nothing! You know how Snape is – always lying!"

"Sirius Black!" Minerva snapped. "To my shame, you may have charmed your way out of mischief as a student, but you are obviously hiding something now. What is it?"

Sirius fidgeted. "There was a note. It appeared right after we heard the news about Grindelwald's escape. I forgot about it!" he protested.

Albus felt suddenly furious. Everyone took an involuntary step back, and he realized his aura was flaring. He forced it back under control. "Do you still have it, Sirius?" he asked, his tone hard.

Sirius gulped. He checked his pockets. "Does it matter?" he asked petulantly, and then looked down as he saw Albus frown. "Kreacher!" The filthy house-elf appeared with a crack.

"Check the pockets of what I wore last week for a piece of parchment. If you find it, bring it back here at once."

"Master called for Kreacher, and Kreacher must obey," Kreacher said in his deep croak. "Filthy blood traitor, a disgrace to –"

"Now, Kreacher!" Sirius roared, and the elf disappeared. There was a very tense silence for about a minute as they waited for Kreacher to return. Sirius scowled down at his feet.

Kreacher reappeared and handed a scrap of parchment to Sirius. "Kreacher searched master's pockets and found this." Kreacher laughed. "Master Regulus's friend sent a warning, but the mudblood loving fools did not listen!" He laughed again.

"Get back to your cleaning!" Sirius snapped. He handed the parchment to Albus, who took it.

"'Death Eaters, led by Nott and Avery, to assault Azkaban tomorrow night,'" Albus read aloud. "Severus did send us a warning," he said softly. _If I had only known . . . . We might have prevented the escape. With a full day's notice, we even might have been able to gather enough witnesses to prove that Voldemort had returned._ He turned to Sirius, and this time he consciously allowed his aura to radiate from him. The Order members shuddered. "Sirius, you shook hands with Severus in the Hogwarts Infirmary. You agreed to work with him. I cannot express how disappointed I am in you. Whether or not you believed in the warning, you had a responsibility to pass it along. Innocent men and women are going to die because you did nothing."

Sirius flinched. "I –"

"You have broken the trust placed in you as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You will consider the repercussions of your actions. You will consider how your _failure_ to act has repercussions. You have a _considerable_ amount to prove before I will ever trust in your judgment again."

Sirius hung his head in shame.

-DVDVDV-

"As you suspected," Gellert said, looking up from the completed contract that had appeared in the storage crate a few moments ago. "Albus chose the former auror to accompany him."

Severus nodded. "And the meeting place?"

"Ah, there you were mistaken. He selected Sherwood Forest over the alternatives."

Severus nodded, and then continued to read Gellert's latest draft. Finally, he said, "These terms are acceptable. What will you require from me?"

"Can you make Lothar's Pigment?" Severus scowled, and Gellert raised a placating hand. "My apologies. Lothar's Pigment, then, and then some quiet while I work."

Severus nodded, and moved to the small workstation. He began to prepare ingredients.

A/N: Please review!


	30. Chapter 30

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 30**

Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody had, at Moody's insistence, apparated to the agreed-upon clearing in Sherwood Forest over two hours before their scheduled appointment with the mysterious "half-blood prince." Moody took a quick look around, and then stomped off to investigate their surroundings. For his part, Albus saw no signs of a trap, and the contract he had signed yesterday offered some fairly terrible repercussions should the prince attack or otherwise harm them during their meeting.

 _"_ _You seem worried,"_ Fawkes said.

"If this meeting goes poorly, Voldemort might win the war," Dumbledore replied.

 _"_ _Then perhaps you should not have brought the wounded warrior. He may not be sufficiently diplomatic,"_ Fawkes noted gently.

Dumbledore sighed. "True. I have impressed upon him the importance of this meeting, even explaining why it is vital. But his views carry too much weight with the others, and he sometimes notices things that I do not."

Moody returned to Albus about an hour later. "Area's clear." They settled in to wait.

At noon exactly, a tall, thin man with dark blond hair apparated into the clearing. He wore expensive, well-tailored robes of a deep, rich blue. Elegant silver trim ran around the edges. A blazing phoenix perched on his shoulder. The bird's coloring was slightly darker than Fawkes's, and Albus immediately recognized him as the one from Severus's boggart. _So Severus lied to me even then._

"Greetings," the man – Albus presumed he was the prince – said, tone polite. Albus detected a faint Dutch accent, but he recognized neither the man's voice nor his appearance. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, take a seat." With a wave of his wand, the prince conjured an elegantly carved wooden, low-backed chair for himself. _A nice display of Transfiguration, there._

"Thank you for inviting us," Albus replied. He conjured armchairs for himself and Moody. He sat. Moody did not. Albus fought to stifle a frown. _Alastor, you promised to be diplomatic!_

"You're wearing a glamour," Moody snapped. "Trying to hide something?"

The prince raised an eyebrow. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I freely confess that I am also polyjuiced beneath the glamour and transfigured beneath the polyjuice." _And I thought Alastor was paranoid._

"Where's Snape?" Moody demanded. Albus winced.

"I came alone, Auror Moody," the man replied. Although his tone remained polite, Albus felt as the man released his aura. It flared briefly before the man reined it in again. Albus felt his eyes widen involuntarily. _Most wizards can flare their auras under extreme emotion, but to do so intentionally, while calm . . . that signifies lord-level power. There have not been four lords together in Britain since the days of the Hogwarts founders. If we are not careful, we could destroy the country._ "Headmaster Dumbledore, I would prefer to keep this meeting civil. At this moment, I harbor no animus against you and yours. However, if your associate here is representative of your group, then I fear my hopes as to their professionalism were misplaced."

Albus turned to Moody. "Alastor, please take a seat." Moody glared, but did as he was asked. "My apologies."

The prince nodded. "Accepted."

"I am afraid that you have us at a disadvantage, however, as you know both of our names and appearance, but we do not know yours."

The man smiled. "True, but I would be a poor tactician to surrender any advantage, would I not? However, I recognize that "the half-blood prince" can be an unwieldy title. For the sake of simplicity, you may call me Mordred." He turned to Moody. "And, no, Auror Moody, that is not my name." _Mordred? The son who betrayed King Arthur and destroyed Camelot?_ _Or am I reading too much into it? After all, Mordred, as the son of a muggle monarch and a witch, was perhaps the most famous half-blood prince._

Albus inclined his head. "Mordred, then. And your remarkable companion? If you forgive me for saying so, he looks remarkably like Severus's boggart."

"It would, I think, be more accurate to say that Master Snape's boggart manifests as my phoenix. But, lest you have any doubts as to his authenticity – Hellspawn, if you would?" _He named his phoenix Hellspawn? That is . . . disturbing. Although it at least explains Severus's final words before he left Grimmauld Place._ _It also suggests that the phoenix feathers found there and in Nurmengard belonged to this phoenix. I had thought that Severus had purchased and then deliberately planted them as part of his deception._ Hellspawn launched himself from Mordred's shoulder and flew to land on Moody. He paused there a moment, before trying to peck Moody's magical eye with his beak. Moody hissed and attempted to bat the phoenix aside. Hellspawn cried out once, and then flew back to Mordred.

 _A pity that phoenix speech is directed – I would have liked to have known what he said, even if only through Fawkes's translation._

"My apologies, Auror Moody," Mordred said. "Hellspawn has an unfortunate habit of snatching baubles. An instinct of his avian nature, I fear."

 _"_ _It is a shiny bauble,"_ Fawkes agreed, laughing.

Albus relaxed slightly. _A true phoenix, then. Good, that eases my concerns, and should help appease Alastor – if he can forgive the assault on his eye, that is._ _We may have hope of convincing the prince after all._

A/N:

Severus will act somewhat out of character (and use a few different speech patterns) while he is disguised as "Mordred." In case there is any confusion, this is only because he is consciously playing a part, much as he did when he polyjuiced as Sirius and Dumbledore in previous chapters. It is not evidence that the phoenix bond is drastically changing Severus's personality, and his normal demeanor will return in scenes in which he is not disguised.

Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be much longer.

Please review!


	31. Chapter 31

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 31**

Severus knew that the paranoid ex-auror would insist on arriving at the meeting place early. He therefore decided to arrive exactly on time. As before, he transfigured his features before polyjuicing as the blond muggle and casting a glamour over himself. Dressed in one of his new sets of robes and with Hellspawn perched on his shoulder, he apparated to the forest clearing.

As expected, Dumbledore and Moody were already present. Moody's wand was drawn, and his magical eye swiveled around, checking for threats. Dumbledore stood calmly, Fawkes on one shoulder. They turned when they heard him appear.

"Greetings," Severus said, his normal rich baritone now a tenor laced with a Dutch accent. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, take a seat." With his spare wand, he conjured a chair for himself. He had deliberated his choice carefully, and decided on an elegantly carved wooden, low-backed chair. It would appear impressive, but it would still allow for mobility.

"Thank you for inviting us," Dumbledore replied. He conjured armchairs for himself and Moody. He sat. Moody did not.

"You're wearing a glamour," Moody snapped. "Trying to hide something?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I freely confess that I am also polyjuiced beneath the glamour and transfigured beneath the polyjuice."

"Where's Snape?" Moody demanded.

"I came alone, Auror Moody," Severus replied. _And that caused quite the argument with Gellert._ His tone remained unfailingly polite as he reached inside for the burning rage that had not left him since he had bonded with the phoenix. As he did, his aura flared briefly. Dumbledore's eyes widened, and Moody took an automatic step back. _I may not be as strong as you or the Dark Lord, but I_ am _a power in my own right._ Point made, he again muffled his fury. His aura calmed.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I would prefer to keep this meeting civil. At this moment, I harbor no animus against you and yours. However, if your associate here is representative of your group, then I fear my hopes as to their professionalism were misplaced." _Not that I've witnessed any professionalism from them thus far._

Dumbledore turned to Moody. "Alastor, please take a seat." Moody glared, but did as he was asked. "My apologies."

Severus nodded. "Accepted."

"I am afraid that you have us at a disadvantage, however, as you know both of our names and appearance, but we do not know yours."

Severus smiled. "True, but I would be a poor tactician to surrender any advantage, would I not? However, I recognize that 'the half-blood prince' can be an unwieldy title. For the sake of simplicity, you may call me Mordred." He turned to Moody. "And, no, Auror Moody, that is not my name." Severus had wanted to select a simpler pseudonym, but Gellert had convinced him otherwise. Names held too much power. If Dumbledore chose to channel Merlin's appearance, he would invoke Mordred.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Mordred, then. And your remarkable companion? If you forgive me for saying so, he looks remarkably like Severus's boggart."

"It would, I think, be more accurate to say that Master Snape's boggart manifests as my phoenix. But, lest you have any doubts as to his authenticity – Hellspawn, if you would?" Hellspawn launched himself from Severus's shoulder and flew to land on Moody. He paused there a moment, before trying to peck Moody's magical eye with his beak. Moody hissed and tried to bat the phoenix aside.

 _"_ _Paranoid, torturing fool of a hypocrite!"_ Hellspawn cried.

"My apologies, Auror Moody," Severus said, fighting a smile. "Hellspawn has an unfortunate habit of snatching baubles. An instinct of his avian nature, I fear."

Fawkes trilled, and Dumbledore seemed to relax.

Moody nodded curtly. "Not a boggart, then. Snape lied about knowing the creature, then."

Severus smiled. "I have found that Severus and Hellspawn have a . . . unique relationship."

 _"_ _Yes, you thought I was imaginary for almost fifteen years,"_ Hellspawn complained.

"However, we are becoming sidetracked," Severus continued, ignoring the phoenix. "I have requested a meeting with you at this time to discuss three related matters: Tom Riddle, Severus Snape, and Gellert Grindelwald. Have you any other topics you wish to discuss with me?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I have a few further questions for you, but we may address these first."

Severus nodded. "Very well, then. As I understand it, you wish to secure either my alliance or, failing that, my neutrality in the coming war with your current dark lord, the man born Tom Riddle?"

"Indeed. Voldemort –" Dumbledore began, but paused when Severus raised a hand.

"Your pardon, Headmaster, but I must request that you do not utter that pseudonym in my presence. It grants him more status than he is due. If you truly do not fear his name, call him that with which he was born." _Also, you insensitive old man, the Dark Mark burns whenever I hear it._

Dumbledore nodded in acquiescence. He smiled, seeming pleased by Severus's request. "As you wish. Tom Riddle, then, has returned. My associates and I seek to stop him before he has a chance to fully regain his former power. Would you be willing to aid us in this?"

"That depends on several factors. First, why do you wish my assistance? Severus seemed to believe that you sought me out in particular, yet you claimed – and continue to claim – not to know who I am. Second, are you taking any direct action, or are you entirely reactionary? Third, what type of alliance do you foresee? Would I – and my associates – serve under you, or retain our autonomy and join your cause as equal partners?"

 _"_ _Nice implication of extensive forces there, given that your 'associates' are just Gellert and me,"_ the phoenix commented.

 _Thank Merlin phoenixes cannot interpret for one another,_ Severus thought.

"To answer your first question, we received intelligence from an impeccable source that a 'half-blood prince' would prove important in the coming war. Unfortunately, no further details were forthcoming, and my source was unavailable for further comment on the matter," Dumbledore replied smoothly.

 _"_ _Trelawney is an 'impeccable source' now?"_

"As to your second, we are guarding those most likely to be targeted by Tom and his followers, and are working to spread the word about his return. To your third question, you would be welcome to join the Order of the Phoenix, if that is your desire. Alternatively, we would be willing to work alongside you as allies again Tom," Dumbledore replied.

 _"_ _So no direct action, and they'll take whatever they can get,"_ Hellspawn translated, amused.

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, that was most illuminating. Before I make any decision, may we address the other two matters under consideration?" Severus asked. Dumbledore nodded, although he did not seem pleased by the delay. _No doubt he wished for my immediate, enthusiastic agreement._ "Very well, then. Regarding Severus Snape, let it be known that he is _mine_." Severus smiled at the last word. He knew that it was not a pleasant smile. "I sent him to Riddle all those years ago, and I sent him to you later. He has been my agent since he was still a student under your care, and I have no doubt that he will remain my agent until one or both of us dies." _Which doesn't mean much, seeing as how we are one and the same._

For the first time since Severus appeared in the clearing, Dumbledore seemed truly disconcerted. Severus continued, "I suspect that you are wondering how Severus could have misled you so completely. You did not question his rare ability to lie convincingly to Riddle, and yet you are surprised that he can mislead you. Even with your remarkable wand, you are not omnipotent. Beware succumbing to hubris, Headmaster Dumbledore.

"And, perchance, it is I who am misled. Perhaps hubris shall be my downfall, rather than yours. That is, alas, often the way with princes."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, still appearing unsettled. _Worried about what I might know about the Elder Wand? Or concerned that I – as Severus – was less a puppet than you imagined?_ "If Severus is indeed your agent, did he rescue Grindelwald on your orders?"

"In a sense, yes. We had long discussed officially recruiting Gellert to our cause. Severus was against the measure, as he believed that it would only exacerbate the delicate political balance. Hellspawn disagreed. He believed that Gellert's expertise would prove necessary to defeat Riddle, given your Order's indolence and infighting." Moody bristled, and Dumbledore looked like was about to argue, but Severus raised a hand in a mild gesture. "For my part, I remained neutral in their dispute. As I said before, Severus and Hellspawn have an unusual relationship, one which is often volatile. Eventually, we came to an agreement. Gellert's freedom would be conditional on your Order's behavior. Extreme incompetence or internal conflict would result in a rescue attempt."

"I fear that you may have some misconceptions about the Order," Dumbledore said. "We are united against the threat of Vol – of Tom Riddle, and we are making every effort to stop him."

Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If you are united, then why did you turn on Severus? I have seen his memories of the events of last week, as well as previous, less extreme incidents. And if you are making every effort, why do you not attack known Death Eaters directly? Even if you have moral objections to killing, surely you can capture them and set guards on them? Would that not be more sensible than waiting for them to attack you?" _This should help me with Moody, provided he doesn't realize who I am. He has been pushing Dumbledore for more proactive measures since he was freed from his trunk, yet he would never agree with anything a former Death Eater suggested._

 _Cut the strings from the puppets, and watch as both they and the puppetmaster collapse._

Severus raised a hand before Dumbledore could reply. "But back to your question. Yes, Severus called upon Hellspawn and rescued Gellert, who is now alive and well in my care. He and I have been in regular communication for many years now, through means that I see no need to elucidate here. Suffice it to say that we have reached an accord. The question now is whether the same can be said of us."

"Before I agree, may I ask why you framed me?" Dumbledore asked, frowning. His blue eyes were not twinkling.

Severus's expression grew cold. "To prove a point. Loyalty goes both ways, Albus Dumbledore. You cannot demand perfect fealty from a man without offering him your protection in turn. You harmed a man under my care. Therefore, as his prince, it is my obligation to provide retribution."

"I see." Dumbledore did not sound pleased. "May I see Gellert?" he asked.

"That is entirely his decision. He is my partner in this, not my subordinate."

Dumbledore nodded reluctantly. "And your long-term plans, should we succeed in defeating Tom? Would you seek to take his place?"

Severus chuckled. "Certainly not. I have no desire to rule. Once this war is over, I shall fade back to my obscurity. You will, in all likelihood, never hear from me again."

"You claim you have no wish to rule, yet call yourself a prince," Moody accused.

"I am a Prince. A half-blood, and certainly not in line to inherit unless a catastrophe strikes my kin, but a Prince nonetheless."

"I was under the impression that there were no wizarding princes," Dumbledore said mildly.

 _Except for the Prince family. But then, they technically all died out since my mother was formally disinherited for marrying my father._ "There are, however, muggle princes. And I am, after all, a half-blood. Surely it is not inconceivable that a muggle royal had a child with a witch or wizard?"

Severus fought a smile as Moody choked. "You're related to the Queen of England?"

"What makes you believe that I am even European? I have, after all, confessed to using polyjuice." The phoenix's laughter rang in his mind.

Dumbledore raised a hand to forestall Moody's reply. "Forgive my confusion, but if you have no wish to rule, then why go recruiting agents? Why claim Severus as yours?"

"You once wished to rule, Headmaster Dumbledore, yes? Perhaps that is why you can see little difference. However, I believe Auror Moody can understand the distinction. Before your retirement, you mentored new trainees, correct? You felt responsible for them?" Moody nodded curtly. "Did you wish to rule Britain?"

"No, of course not."

"Severus Snape is mine just as Auror Tonks is yours, Auror Moody. I recruited him and trained him, I invested my time and care into him." Moody nodded, apparently content with this explanation.

Dumbledore paused, and then said, "I believe I am satisfied with your intentions. If you truly wish to defeat Tom Riddle, then I believe that we can come to an agreement. Do you and your associates have a name?"

Severus gave a brief, chill smile. "Officially, my organization does not exist. However, you may refer to us as the Penitent Damned. Like yourselves, we honor our mascot." He nodded towards Hellspawn.

 _"_ _Does that make you the half-blood Prince of Lies?"_ Hellspawn asked.

Severus continued, ignoring the phoenix, "My proposed terms are these:

"First, our joint goal is the death of Tom Riddle. We will share resources and all pertinent information with one another, but our organizations will remain distinct.

"Second, we shall not intentionally undermine one another's efforts. You will, I expect, disapprove of some of my methods. I certainly disapprove of many of yours.

"Third, you and I shall each do our utmost to enforce a truce between our members. Regardless of personal enmity, the cause is too important to risk. To that end, you and yours will treat me, Severus, and Gellert – and any others I may choose to introduce – with respect. I will, of course, demand the same of my people. I accept that perfect compliance with this provision is impossible to achieve, given the personalities involved. A reduction in outright antagonism is, however, necessary. Auror Moody, this includes you. You will cease accusing Master Snape of Death Eater loyalties. He joined at my urging. If you cannot accept that, then there is no point to these negotiations.

"Fourth, we must redefine Master Snape's role. He will retain his position as a spy in Riddle's camp, but he will no longer report to the entire Order of the Phoenix. He will either report to me or Gellert, and one of us will convey the information to the Order, or he will report to you, Headmaster Dumbledore, or to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.

"Similarly, his time is too valuable to be wasted teaching. His disposition is woefully unsuited to dealing with schoolchildren, and his talents at inventing are too rare to waste. You will appoint a new potions professor, while retaining Severus as the Hogwarts brewer and Head of Slytherin.

"Finally, I propose that the terms of this alliance shall last until Tom Riddle dies. Have you any additional points you wish to add, Headmaster Dumbledore? Auror Moody?"

Dumbledore and Moody glanced at one another. "I believe those terms are acceptable," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Excellent," Severus replied. He removed a roll of parchment from a pocket. With a wave of his hand, it floated to Dumbledore, who took it. "In anticipation of your acceptance, I took the liberty of asking Gellert to prepare a formal contract outlining these terms."

Severus waited as Dumbledore and Moody examined the parchment. Moody's eye rolled wildly in its socket. "There's a lot of magic bound into this," Moody murmured. "Don't see anything harmful, though, even if someone violates the truce. Just files a record of each violation with Gringotts. Allows them to act as a neutral party in the event of a dispute later." Dumbledore nodded, and then took out a quill and signed. Moody signed a moment later.

"Thank you. Now, is there anything else you wish to share?" Severus asked, summoning the parchment back.

"I can provide the location of our Headquarters, but I believe that is all for now," Dumbledore replied, rising.

"Indeed? Surely, Professor Trelawney's prophecies would be considered pertinent information?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "After all, were you not warned to trust the half-blood prince?"

A/N: Please review!


	32. Chapter 32

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 32**

Mordred removed a roll of parchment from a pocket. With a wave of his hand, he floated it to Albus, who took it. _Casual nonverbal, wandless magic. Yes, he is certainly powerful._ "In anticipation of your acceptance, I took the liberty of asking Gellert to prepare a formal contract outlining these terms."

Albus and Moody examined the parchment. Even if Mordred had not named the author, Albus would have recognized Gellert's handiwork in the runes rimming the parchment. "There's a lot of magic bound into this," Moody murmured. "Don't see anything harmful, though, even if we violate the truce. Just files a record of each violation with Gringotts. Allows them to act as a neutral party in the event of a dispute later." Albus nodded, agreeing with Moody's assessment. He took out a quill and signed. Moody followed suit a moment later.

"Thank you. Now, is there anything else you wish to share?" Mordred asked, summoning the parchment back.

"I can provide the location of our Headquarters, but I believe that is all for now," Albus replied, rising. _You have given me much to consider. This meeting did not go as poorly as I had feared, but I had hoped for a more trusting partnership. Your comments about the Order's incompetence and infighting do not bode well. And yet, are you truly wrong?_ Albus recalled how Sirius had deliberately failed to pass along Severus's warning about the pending Azkaban breakout. He had rarely felt so furious, so disappointed. _Perhaps, with Mordred's help, we can overcome these setbacks._

 _And yet, to have set Severus to spy on both Voldemort and myself . . . . What are your plans after Voldemort falls? Do you truly intend to disappear? Or are you a chessmaster moving his pawns? Who are you?_

"Indeed? Surely, Professor Trelawney's prophecies would be considered pertinent information?" Mordred asked, raising an eyebrow. "After all, were you not warned to trust the half-blood prince?"

Moody started. "What?" he demanded.

For his part, Albus knew the shock showed on his face. Fighting to master his expression, he asked, "How did you hear of that?" _I told Alastor shortly before we came here. Before that, only Minerva and I knew. Severus never heard it._ Albus remembered what he had witnessed in the pensieve. _Is Severus a seer? Is that how he learned of it?_

"The Department of Mysteries is remarkably simple to infiltrate, Headmaster Dumbledore. You should either tighten your security or else destroy any prophecies you do not wish others to hear. I have already taken the liberty of removing any record of my prophecy." Albus recalled how, only a week ago, Severus had suggested to Voldemort how to retrieve the first prophecy. _Was this the method Mordred used?_ Mordred continued, "I would, however, be quite interested in learning the details of the one concerning Mister Harry Potter. I also eagerly await your reasoning for not informing me, your ally, of either prophecy despite our recent agreement." Mordred's voice remained coolly polite, but there was an edge of menace that was not present before.

Albus felt a chill. _This man is dangerous._ Fawkes rubbed his head against his neck. Albus stroked him absently. _And he did not explain_ how _he learned of the latest prophecy._ He paused, considering. _I need to tell him_ , he decided. _If I don't, our fragile alliance will break before it has even begun. But I also need to confirm my suspicions about Severus._

"I apologize for the oversight. Before I say more, might I inquire if you are proficient in occlumency?"

Mordred raised an eyebrow. "Of course I am. Who did you believe had taught Severus?"

Albus frowned slightly. Looking back, he realized that he had assumed that Voldemort had taught his spy. _But why would he have? Why would he risk creating an occlumens capable of blocking his own legilimency?_ He nodded. "In that case, if I tell you the prophecy concerning Harry, would you be willing to confirm something I have recently begun to suspect? In the pensieve, we witnessed Severus make made some . . . oddly insightful comments regarding our presence there. Would I be wrong in assuming that he is your source of this information? And that he is, in fact, privy to a seer's sight? If I am mistaken, please let me know, as I would like to remedy any lapse in our security."

Hellspawn trilled something, and Mordred turned to him, raising one eyebrow. Returning his attention to Albus, he inclined his head slightly. "That is a most discerning observation, Headmaster Dumbledore. Given Tom Riddle's known interest in prophecies, I would hesitate to advertise his abilities in the art of Divination. However, I can confirm that Severus has often perceived that which is beyond the sight of most wizards. Modern magical theory places both Divination and Potions within the Creativity branch of magic. Severus, of course, is a master of the latter. To be gifted in the former as well would not be unheard of."

Albus smiled. _Good, there were no information leaks in the Order._ "I am relieved to hear it, and can only wish that I had recognized this gift of his sooner." _Who knows what we might have learned, had I only been on the watch for it._ Beside him, Moody shook his head in silent disgust as Albus continued, "To honor our bargain, the first prophecy is:

 _"_ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . . ._ _"_ _(1)_

Mordred sat in a contemplative silence for several long seconds. "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I trust that you have been training Mister Potter in his power of which the Dark Lord knows not?"

"Ah, but Harry's power cannot be trained. It can only be felt, truly and deeply, never forced to the surface." Mordred raised an eyebrow. "Love, Prince Mordred, love. His mother's love for him defeated Tom Riddle fourteen years ago, and it continues to protect him to this day."

Mordred nodded thoughtfully. "That clarifies much that was previously unclear. Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. And now, is there anything else you should share with your ally?" Mordred's smile was predatory.

 _Should I mention my suspicions about Voldemort's horcruxes? No, not yet. I will trust him, but this is too much, too soon._

"Simply our location. You may find the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London."

Mordred nodded. "I thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, Auror Moody, for your time. I shall see you again soon, I do not doubt." He stood, and Albus and Moody rose as well. "Ah, but before I leave, would you be so kind as to remove the surveillance from Severus's house? Although he is welcome to remain with me, I do believe he would prefer to return home without incident."

 _That would explain why we couldn't find Severus recently._ "Of course," Albus agreed. Mordred inclined his head, and then he and his phoenix disapparated.

Moody turned to Albus. "Well, that could have gone better."

Albus sighed. "Indeed it could. But, with luck, things will progress more smoothly now that we are working with him directly, rather than through Severus."

Moody snorted. "You believed that, then?"

"It makes more sense than the alternative," Albus replied. _Although it also raises many more questions. Were the motives that Severus presented to me were genuine, or were they simply part of his cover? He has always been a difficult man to deal with. Is his acerbic personality a facet of his disguise, or his true self? Was there any information from Voldemort that Mordred ordered him not to share with me?_

Moody nodded. "True enough. That prince is a paranoid bastard, isn't he? Maybe he can teach our lot proper caution." _Alastor is calling someone else paranoid?_ Albus thought, amused.

"Any concerns?" Albus asked.

"I like him. Don't trust him one whit, mind you, but I like him. Hope he's actually on our side, and not just playing us."

 _Likewise, my friend. If he is deceiving us, we may all be doomed._

A/N:

(1) Quote taken from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

Please review!


	33. Chapter 33

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **A/N:** I can't believe that Alan Rickman died yesterday. He was absolutely fantastic as Snape in the Harry Potter movies (and _Galaxy Quest_ and pretty much everything else I saw him in). He will be missed.

 **Chapter 33**

"I would, however, be quite interested in learning the details of the one concerning Mister Harry Potter. I also eagerly await your reasoning for not informing me, your ally, of either prophecy despite our recent agreement." Severus kept his voice coolly polite, but allowed a tinge of menace to appear.

Fawkes rubbed his head against Dumbledore's neck. The headmaster stroked him absently. "I apologize for the oversight. Before I say more, might I inquire if you are proficient in occlumency?" he asked.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Of course I am. Who did you believe had taught Severus?" He had begun teaching himself occlumency in his fourth year at Hogwarts, hoping that he could then teach his mother. After he lost Lily's friendship at the end of their fifth year, his prolonged use of his then-rudimentary shields to dampen his depression had strengthened them considerably. By the time he met the Dark Lord at seventeen, his shields were nearly as formidable as they were now.

Dumbledore frowned slightly. _You never even wondered how I learned, did you? Or why?_ He nodded. "In that case, if I tell you the prophecy concerning Harry, would you be willing to confirm something I have recently begun to suspect? In the pensieve, we witnessed Severus make some . . . oddly insightful comments regarding our presence there. Would I be wrong in assuming that he is your source of this information? And that he is, in fact, privy to a seer's sight? If I am mistaken, please let me know, as I would like to remedy any lapse in our security."

 _"_ _You're a seer? Shame on you, hiding things like that from me,"_ Hellspawn said, amused.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the phoenix in silent question, seeking to hide his utter bewilderment. _What did he see in my memory that would even make him think that?_ He tried to recall if he had said anything particularly prophetic. Certainly nothing he had said to the Dark Lord should qualify. He had barely spoken with Hellspawn that day, as he had still been in shock that the phoenix was not a figment of his imagination. He did not recall saying anything of importance, certainly nothing like the prophecy and partial prophecy that Trelawney had made. Severus knew that she did not recall her prophecy about Potter, but the woman showed so many signs of mental tampering that he had long suspected Dumbledore of oblivating her after the fact.

Returning his attention to Dumbledore, Severus inclined his head slightly. "That is a most discerning observation, Headmaster Dumbledore. Given Tom Riddle's known interest in prophecies, I would hesitate to advertise his abilities in the art of Divination. However, I can confirm that Severus has often perceived that which is beyond the sight of most wizards." _That, at least, is true. That blasted phoenix stalked me for years without anyone else noticing._ "Modern magical theory places both Divination and Potions within the Creativity branch of magic. Severus, of course, is a master of the latter. To be gifted in the former as well would not be unheard of." _Also true. That does not, however, mean that I am a seer, just that a seer can also theoretically be a potions master._

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "I am relieved to hear it, and can only wish that I had recognized this gift of his sooner." Beside him, Moody shook his head in disgust as Dumbledore continued, "To honor our bargain, the first prophecy is:

 _"_ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . . ._ _"_ _(1)_

Severus sat in silence for several long seconds. _This was the prophecy that doomed Lily? It seems that it has already been fulfilled. The Dark Lord marked Potter, who vanquished him through mysterious means fourteen years ago. And yet the Dark Lord survived. According to the prophecy, that should have prevented Potter from living. Or is that "live" in terms of enjoyment of life, rather than mere survival? In any case, it does not seem pertinent going forward, unless he can harness his unknown power._ "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I trust that you have been training Mister Potter in his power of which the Dark Lord knows not?"

"Ah, but Harry's power cannot be trained. It can only be felt." Severus raised an eyebrow. "Love, Prince Mordred, love. His mother's love for him defeated Tom Riddle fourteen years ago, and it continues to protect him to this day." The damnable man's eyes twinkled merrily as he said it.

 _Love? That is the most absurd suggestion I have ever had the misfortune to hear, and I have suffered through three years of teaching that ridiculous Lovegood girl. For all my failure at the practical, I have been studying the magical theory of love for most of my life. I have read every book at Hogwarts even tangentially related to the subject, and a hundred more besides. There is absolutely_ nothing _to support this idea. Love can_ never _be harnessed as a weapon. A shield of love that can reflect attacks is the fanciful nonsense of a muggle fairy tale, nothing more._

 _My love for Lily is slowly killing me, but even I am not fool enough to believe the power of her love alone could defeat the Dark Lord. Would I have been her test run, then, if your ridiculous theory is to be given credence? If you believe this tripe you are spewing, Dumbledore, you are as mad as the Dark Lord. Either Potter has some other mysterious power that struck him down, or Lily uncovered some long-lost ritual that protected her brat. Unfortunately, I doubt I shall ever uncover the truth._

Nodding as if he agreed with that nonsense, Severus said, "That clarifies much that was previously unclear. Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. And now, is there anything else you should share with your ally?"

"Simply our location. You may find the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London."

Severus nodded. "I thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, Auror Moody, for your time. I shall see you again soon, I do not doubt." He stood, and the others rose as well. "Ah, but before I leave, would you be so kind as to remove the surveillance from Severus's house? Although he is welcome to remain with me, I do believe he would prefer to return home without incident."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. Severus inclined his head, and then he and Hellspawn disapparated.

-DVDVDV-

"How did it go?" Gellert asked.

"Love! The fool expects me to believe that Potter defeated the Dark Lord with the power of love!" Severus ranted, angrily pacing back and forth in the converted storage crate. He was still polyjuiced as the blond muggle.

" _Finite supremum_ ," Gellert cast, restoring Severus's normal appearance. Severus did not seem to notice.

"The first prophecy was utterly worthless. It has, to all appearances, long since been fulfilled. Unless Dumbledore is hiding things again, which is always possible. But _love_? He actually seemed to believe it, too. How could _love_ have defeated the Dark Lord?"

Gellert refrained from reminding Severus that they had agreed to call Voldemort "Tom Riddle." His friend obviously needed to vent.

"It does seem frightfully unlikely," Gellert agreed. "Aside from that, how did the meeting go? I trust you were not this . . . agitated . . . during the event itself?"

Severus threw up his hands angrily. "Of course not. And it went as well as could be hoped. They certainly seemed to believe the act. They signed the contract, at least, and Moody was almost civil."

 _"_ _You are forgetting the most important part,"_ Hellspawn added. _"Severus has been a seer all along, and never bothered to tell us."_

Gellert's lips twitched as Severus scowled. " _That_ was not part of the plan. I can only assume that Dumbledore came to that conclusion while on the same psychotropic drugs that have him convinced of the Dark Lord-defeating properties of love."

"What did you tell them?"

 _"_ _He neither confirmed nor denied it. Thereby confirming it,"_ Hellspawn replied smugly. Gellert laughed.

-DVDVDV-

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DISMISSED AS HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

 _MINERVA MCGONAGALL INSTATED AS ACTING HEADMISTRESS_

 _August 9, 1995_

 _London – In the wake of numerous recent scandals, the Hogwarts Board of Governors in a unanimous vote has demanded that Albus Dumbledore step down from his position as Headmaster._

 _"_ _This decision has been coming for some time," said Lucius Malfoy, newly reinstated member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. "Signs of former Headmaster Dumbledore's senility have been growing over the years, but recent events – the ludicrous claims that You-Know-Who has returned, his suspicious presence at the escape of the dark wizard Grindelwald – have made it abundantly clear that he is no longer fit to care for our children."_

 _Ministry officials have applauded this pronouncement, which joins several other setbacks for the former Headmaster in recent weeks. Last month, Dumbledore was stripped of his position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the International Confederation of Wizards revoked his title of Supreme Mugwump in the days following Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald's escape from Nurmengard Prison._

 _Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has been appointed Acting Headmistress until a thorough evaluation of all candidates has been conducted._

Severus put down his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ with a slight smile. Today seemed like a fine day to introduce himself – as "Mordred" – to the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

A/N:

(1) Quote taken from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

In case the love magic section was unclear, Severus knows that love can be dangerous, but he sees it more like cancer than like a sword. It only harms the person who has it. You cannot use it to harm someone else.

Please review!


	34. Chapter 34

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 34**

Minerva McGonagall opened the door to reveal an unfamiliar tall blond man in elegant, understated robes of a deep russet. A blazing red and gold phoenix sat perched on his shoulder. He bowed deeply when he saw her, prompting the bird to adjust its position slightly.

"Madame," he said, his voice a light tenor marked by a slight Dutch accent. "I believe that I am expected?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow. _This is the half-blood prince?_ "Mordred, I presume?" The man inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Please, do come in. I am Minerva McGonagall."

"Ah, so you were the one to whom the seer made her prophecy," the man said, following her inside. "I have heard a great deal about you. It is a pleasure to meet you in person. My congratulations on your recent appointment."

Minerva pursed her lips, assessing his tone. _Is he being serious? Losing Albus as headmaster is a terrible blow for our side. Yet he seems genuine . . . . Of course, he_ was _responsible for framing Albus in the first place. But Albus said to treat him with respect, and the prophecy warned us to trust him . . . ._

"Thank you. However, it would have been better had the circumstances been different." Her tone came out sharper than she had intended, but he only smiled slightly.

They had reached the kitchen. Most the Order had gathered there, eager. Although only she, Dumbledore, and Moody knew the true importance of the half-blood prince, the others had been told enough to know that Mordred was a powerful, important new ally. Moody had hinted at lord-level power, and the man's phoenix promised his good intentions. _Despite its name_ , Minerva thought.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat in the kitchen. He beamed at Mordred. "Thank you for joining us. I believe introductions are in order. My friends, this is Mordred, the leader of the Penitent Damned, and his companion, Hellspawn." Mordred inclined his head slightly. Next to him, Minerva could sense his slight amusement at the Order's discomfort at the choice of names. _It's as if he is mocking our sense of morality._ As soon as Minerva thought it, she knew that it was true.

Dumbledore then introduced the assembled Order members. Mordred nodded politely to each."Thank you, Mister Dumbledore, for the kind welcome. I look forward to working with you and your associates against our common foe," he said.

"Will your associates be joining us?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not at the moment. I felt it unwise to bring Gellert or Severus today, as I could not be certain of their welcome." The air grew tense at the mention of the former dark lord and the ex-Death Eater. "As for the rest of the Damned, I would prefer not to risk their safety or their identities at this time."

"Why do you call yourselves the Damned?" Tonks asked. She flushed as all eyes turned to her. _Foolish girl,_ Minerva thought. _This situation is tense enough as it is._

Yet Mordred merely smiled slightly. "You are named after your founder's companion, yes? We are as well. But I take it that you mean why my phoenix bears such a title? For much the same reason, I suspect, that Mister Dumbledore named his phoenix after Guy Fawkes, a muggle traitor who attempted to assassinate England's legitimate ruling body. He was tortured and executed for his crimes. An effigy of the man is traditionally burnt in muggle Britain even now in commemoration."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily, but the others in the room appeared as surprised as she felt. _Is that the origin of Fawkes's name?_ When Mordred continued, though, Dumbledore's eyes quickly lost their amusement. "It comes to the nature of phoenixes. They only bond with those who meet certain criteria. A powerful wizard whose hands are clean will never bond with a phoenix. He would not need one. Dark lords, though, who sincerely repent of their crimes – we require a light to guide us out of the darkness. The phoenix comes to offer us a path to redemption. But only a foolish wizard would believe that we are truly saved. Some crimes can never be forgiven, can they?" He turned to Dumbledore as he said the last. _He considers himself a former dark lord? And is implying that Albus is one as well?_

The old wizard had paled considerably as Mordred spoke. That, more than anything, made Minerva believe his words. She also realized something that chilled her. _Mordred hates Albus, truly hates him._ Minerva recalled the assault on Severus last week. She had shouted herself hoarse at Dumbledore once she heard what had happened. She did not agree with what Severus had done afterwards, but that did not hide the fact that he had been attacked first. _If Severus has been working for Mordred all along, and if Mordred truly cares about his subordinates, he would have been as livid with Albus as I was. Possibly more so. If we sacrifice our morals whenever it suits us, we become no better than those we fight against._

"I prefer not to hold any man as irredeemable," Dumbledore said quietly. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

Distress rippled through the Order, as they took Dumbledore's lack of any stronger protest as confirmation of Mordred's words. _What crimes earned you your phoenix?_ Minerva shook herself. _Did it even matter? Albus is – surely – a good man now. Although, given what he did to Severus . . . ._

"Quite," Mordred said. "However, as pleasant as this tangent is, it distracts from my reasons for coming."

"Oh?"

"My reasons are three. First, I seek to pass along Severus's most recent report. Tom Riddle did not know of the dementor attack on Mister Potter until Severus informed him of it. It is possible that Death Eater sought to gain favor by harming Mister Potter and then chose not to admit culpability when the attempt failed, or there is another power at work beyond the Order of the Phoenix, the Penitent Damned, and the Death Eaters."

Someone scoffed loudly from the back of the room, but whoever it was fell silent before Minerva could identify the culprit. Mordred merely chuckled slightly. "A week ago, would you not have disbelieved a suggestion of a third power? And yet here I stand. And it is by no means certain that it was not simply a rogue Death Eater.

"As to my second reason for visiting, I wish to confirm that, given the change in leadership at Hogwarts, the terms in place for Severus remain unchanged," Mordred continued, addressing Minerva.

"Naturally, my boy, naturally," Dumbledore replied.

"I beg your pardon, Mister Dumbledore, but I believe that this is the interim headmistress's decision," Mordred replied, tone firm but polite. "Also, I would prefer you not address me as your boy. I am neither yours nor am I a child." He smiled at Dumbledore, and Minerva was reminded of a shark.

"Of course. My apologies. Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

Minerva frowned. She recognized this for what it was, a minor power play. Despite the injunctions in the prophecy, she could not bring herself to trust the mysterious prince. On the other hand . . . . _Can I trust Albus now? He apparently did something heinous before feeling remorse. This is his second chance, yet he placed Miss Granger at risk by refusing to move her to headquarters the moment he learned she was in danger. He claimed to trust Severus, only to violate that trust terribly._

 _Severus risked himself to save Miss Granger, but the others showed him only hostility for his efforts. He was innocent of the attack on Mister Potter, and was assaulted for his ignorance._

"The terms stand," she said firmly. "Severus need only brew and act as Head of House." _Albus and the prince both want the same thing. This time, at least. And Severus hates teaching. It is not much of an apology, but it is something._

Mordred smiled slightly at her. Unlike before, he appeared genuinely pleased. Inclining his head, he said, "On behalf of both Severus and myself, thank you." Addressing Dumbledore again, he continued, "My final motive for coming is to confirm your plans now that you are free to operate more openly."

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore seemed confused.

Mordred frowned slightly. "It would be a pity if we were to work at cross-purposes. If necessary, I can reassign my agents to different tasks, either to allow you to move unopposed or to offer their assistance if available."

"Forgive me, my b- Mordred, but I am still not clear as to your meaning."

"Now that your role in the war is no longer hindered by running a school, you are able to engage more directly with the enemy, yes? Surely your plans have changed now that you, as the unofficial general and most seasoned warrior, are no longer encumbered by your civilian responsibilities?" Mordred said. His tone remained one of slight confusion, entirely innocent. Minerva did not believe it.

 _Mordred is trying to undermine Albus._

A/N: Please review!


	35. Chapter 35

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 35**

"Now that your role in the war is no longer hindered by running a school, you are able to engage more directly with the enemy, yes? Surely your plans have changed now that you, as the unofficial general and most seasoned warrior, are no longer encumbered by your civilian responsibilities?" Severus said, feigning confusion. _Will you start pulling your own weight in the war, leading your little soldiers as a general ought, or will you continue trying to move everyone by invisible strings?_

The gathered Order members glared at him. A few began to mutter angrily.

"It's your fault he had to leave!" Black snapped. "Yours and Snivell –" Severus felt the phoenix's fire burn within him, but he did not allow his rage to show. _Of course it was my fault. I will destroy you, Albus Dumbledore. Your reputation is already in tatters, your legacy forfeit. Everything you have built will turn to ash._

"Enough!" Dumbledore interrupted. "We must all work together here. We are allies in this. Recriminations only serve to help Voldemort." Severus fought to control his flinch as the name caused his Dark Mark to burn. _So much for calling him Riddle. Reluctant to admit to the others that you knew him then, that you suspected his psychopathy yet failed to act? Or that you pushed him over the edge until he became the monster he is now?_ "To answer your question, Mordred, I plan to continue assisting Minerva with Hogwarts, albeit indirectly for the time being."

Since his arrival, Severus had been trying to gauge McGonagall's reactions. She was, understandably, wary of him. At the same time, though, she was obviously upset with Dumbledore, although she was trying to hide it behind a unified front. _What has cracked her complacency? Her belief in him was practically absolute when I saw her last._

As if reading his thoughts, Hellspawn said, _"She would be a better ally than enemy."_

At the sound of the phoenix, the tension in the room eased. _Now, how to drive the wedge deeper?_ Aloud, Severus asked, "Why? Surely, as your deputy of many years, she is capable of handling the role on her own? Furthermore, should your assistance become known, her reputation could be tarnished as yours has been. Would Hogwarts be served by risking her dismissal as well?"

There was silence as the assembled Order members stared at him in surprise. They had obviously not considered this point. _Idiot sheep, following blindly as their shepherd leads them over a cliff._

Dumbledore seemed to sense the change in opinion. He nodded amiably. "An excellent point, and one I admit I had not considered. Minerva, if you feel comfortable handling things?"

She nodded. "Of course, Albus."

"Excellent, in that case, I believe that I can take on a more direct role. Obviously, recruiting may not be the best option for me at the moment, given my current reputation," he said, eyes twinkling. "However, I believe there are some other areas in which I can assist."

 _Such as?_ Severus noted McGonagall pursing her lips in a tight frown. From his long association with her, he could guess her thoughts. _She is as unsatisfied with Dumbledore's response as I am._ When Dumbledore did not elaborate, Severus raised an eyebrow and said, tone cool but still cordial, "Very well. Perhaps I should return tomorrow, and we can review the specifics then?" Dumbledore nodded. "Excellent. With your permission, I shall ask Gellert to accompany me."

"Can't believe I have to let another bloody dark wizard into my house," Black muttered angrily to Lupin.

"If there is nothing else?" Severus asked, pretending he had not heard. In his mind, he saw the roaring of flames.

"That is all for now, my – Mordred. Please let Gellert know I look forward to seeing him again."

Severus inclined his head. Under his breath, he murmured, "Unfortunately, the feeling is entirely mutual."

-DVDVDV-

Minerva McGonagall had wanted to be wrong.

If she had to point to a single moment, it would have been when she learned what had been done to Severus. Although it pained her, she could imagine Alastor Moody or Sirius Black involved in something like that. She had believed Black to be a mass murderer and traitor for years. Even knowing of his innocence, she could picture him tormenting Severus. And Moody was forced into retirement for a reason. Paranoid to the point of violence, she could see him overreacting to the former Death Eater.

She could, reluctantly, even understand Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Lupin. She was highly disappointed in them, but could believe that they were caught up in the moment. They were wrong, but they obviously felt appropriately ashamed. Tonks could no longer even look at Moody, and he had been her mentor.

The loyalty of a Hufflepuff, strained.

But Albus? She would never have imagined Albus allowing it to happen, let alone taking part.

Yet once she thought about it, she remembered other things. Albus attempting legilimency on Severus after she had heard the prophecy, Albus risking Miss Granger's life despite Severus's warning, Miss Granger's questions about muggleborns and half-bloods. The last, more than anything, had decided her. She had seen her favorite student's innocence destroyed. And so she had observed her friend and mentor closely yesterday when the half-blood prince visited, hoping that he would restore her faith in his infallibility.

He had not.

Mordred's questions, his sly insinuations had highlighted what some part of her had already suspected. She did not trust the so-called prince's motives. There was something driving him beyond a simple defeat of You-Know-Who, something that caused those power games and dark allusions last night. Unfortunately, this realization made the so-called prince's words no less effective. His every utterance raised fresh doubts about Albus. Albus, who had defeated Grindelwald and saved Europe from the darkness. Albus, who had led the fight against You-Know-Who for years. Albus, who had been her professor, her Head of House, her mentor, her friend.

Albus, who had tortured his best placed spy. Albus, who had risked the lives of children under his care. Albus, who may have once been a dark lord.

And so she had refused to go off with the others today, when Gellert Grindelwald was expected to arrive at Headquarters. Her eyes had been opened, and she would not retreat back to what she knew now was willful blindness.

She was a Gryffindor. She would be brave.

Albus Dumbledore had shown her how.

A/N:

Please review!


	36. Chapter 36

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 36**

Gellert paced across the small room nervously as he waited for Severus to arrive. After some consideration, he had decided to remain in the converted storage crate until the potions master returned to Hogwarts. After that, he would relocate to Spinners End. While Severus had not complained about the shared living quarters while his house remained under surveillance, Gellert had seen enough to recognize that the man far preferred solitude over forced company. In contrast, Gellert, after suffering five decades of near total isolation, was desperate to be around people.

 _Why isn't Severus here yet?_

Severus apparated into the room, Hellspawn on his shoulder. Gellert saw that he was already in his Mordred disguise. Severus quickly surveyed his appearance, taking in the fine burgundy dress robes and carefully combed hair. He said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow in amusement. Gellert refused to feel embarrassed. He would be seeing Albus for the first time in forty-five years. His vanity demanded that he make a suitable impression.

"You are certain?" Severus asked.

"Yes. Let's go beard the lion in his den." Gellert took Severus's proffered arm, and they disapparated.

They reappeared on a quiet muggle street across from a row of townhouses. Gellert waited as Severus crossed the street and then disappeared. _The Fidelius at work._ A few minutes later, he emerged, walking back to Gellert and handing him a small scrap of parchment. He read it, recognizing Albus's handwriting despite the long years. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place._ Gellert looked up as another building popped into view. A middle-aged witch watched them from the open doorway, staring sternly at him. He flashed her a charming smile and bowed low. Beside him, Severus rolled his eyes.

Crossing the street, he bowed again when he reached the entrance. "Madame, might I beg entry to your honored establishment?" Rising, he returned the scrap of parchment to her, eyes dancing merrily in amusement.

The woman's lips pursed into a tight frown. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Lord Grindelwald," she said, tone obviously struggling to remain polite. _She likely remembers the days when I was in power._ Gellert recognized a Scottish accent.

 _"_ _Minerva McGonagall,"_ Hellspawn supplied. _"A potential ally."_

Hellspawn launched himself from Severus's shoulder and circled once around McGonagall before landing on Gellert. The woman raised her eyebrows at this. At her evident surprise, Gellert chuckled softly.

"I am no longer the man I was fifty years ago, madame. Though the blood on my hands can never be cleansed, I shall attempt as best I can to make amends."

McGonagall nodded curtly, her expression easing slightly. _Good. She might never like me, but she might be able to work with me._

"Perhaps we should go inside, Headmistress McGonagall?" Severus asked. She stepped aside to let them in, and then led them silently down the hall. Gellert noted the severed house elf heads mounted to the walls, the troll leg table, and half a dozen dark artifacts as they walked. _What a lovely base of operations. I think I actually prefer the storage crate._

There were only two people in the kitchen when they entered. Gellert guessed that Albus had wanted to limit the potential for conflict that his mere presence would engender. A heavily scarred man with a bright blue magical eye leaned against one wall. From Severus's description, Gellert immediately identified him as Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

The other man was Albus.

Gellert's breath caught momentarily, but he quickly forced himself under control. From what little he had seen of it, Severus's polyjuiced impersonation of the man had been excellent. However, no one could truly capture the full force of Albus's presence, his exact mannerisms, his inner nature. Gellert loved the man almost as much as he loathed him, and there was no substitute for the real thing.

Albus Dumbledore had clearly been pacing the room, filled with the same nervous energy that Gellert had felt earlier. His sparkling blue eyes widened a fraction as he took in Gellert's appearance. Gellert allowed himself a small smile. _Surprised I look so much better than you expected, Albus? We have Severus to thank for that. And how nice to see that, despite the years, I can still read you._ Albus, for his part, looked worse than Gellert had expected from the polyjuiced impersonation. He looked older, more tired. _Difficult week, Albus?_ He wore relatively sedate robes of deep blue. Gellert remembered that Albus had worn something similar the first time they had gone out to dinner together. _A conscious choice?_

"Hello, Albus," Gellert said. "It has been a long time."

-DVDVDV-

Albus Dumbledore paced restlessly in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. It had required a surprising amount of persuasion to convince the Order members not to assemble en masse for today's meeting. _I am losing control of them, too_ , he realized. _Not just Hogwarts and the Ministry. Gellert's escape, the prince's insinuations . . . it's all too much, too soon._

Alastor Moody, of course, had insisted on staying. Surprisingly, so had Minerva. No amount of arguing had managed to persuade her otherwise. Sirius had wanted to be part of the meeting, insisting that this was his house. Fortunately, Molly Weasley had managed to convince him to remain upstairs, ostensibly to protect the children in case anything _did_ happen. _A good thing, too. Sirius might mean well, but he does not think through the consequences of his actions, nor can he always control his temper. He might say something to Gellert or Mordred to cause an explosion. And his judgment is so woefully blinded by his prejudices . . . . After the Azkaban breakout, he proved that he cannot be trusted with anything important._

Albus continued to pace. He knew he was not ready to see Gellert again. He was not sure he ever would be. He had never loved anyone since, not as he had loved that laughing, mischievous blond. _If it hadn't been for Ariana . . . ._ He cut off that train of thought. There was no use in dwelling on might-have-beens.

Someone knocked on the front door.

"I'll get it," Minerva said. "Albus, stop pacing. You're acting like a nervous fourth-year." Moody chuckled.

Albus stilled, waiting for Minerva to return. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard faint footsteps from the hall. A moment later, the kitchen door opened to reveal Minerva, followed by Mordred and . . . and Gellert.

Albus's eyes widened when he saw his former lover enter with Mordred's magnificent phoenix perched on his shoulder. Gellert was so much older than he remembered. He knew that he was no longer young himself, but the difference struck him painfully. _So many lost years._ The laughing young man was gone . . . _No_ , Albus realized, _his eyes are the same. The windows to the soul. They still sparkle just as they did all those years ago._

Gellert looked better than he did in his wanted posters, Albus saw. He was thin, but not as skeletal as the photograph had made him seem. He had a full head of hair – white, of course, rather than the blond he remembered so fondly – not the wispy baldness from the posters. And someone – Mordred, Albus assumed – had replaced his teeth. All told, he looked surprising healthy.

 _And handsome_ , a small voice in his head said. Albus fought to ignore it.

"Hello, Albus," Gellert said, his German accent stronger than he remembered. "It has been a long time."

"Gellert," Albus replied. "I . . . I have missed you." And Albus was surprised that it was true. _Didn't I want you to remain in Nurmengard?_

Gellert smiled, but it was a sad smile, lacking in the familiar mirth. "Then you should have visited. I accept that I needed to be stopped, that I deserved my imprisonment. But there are provisions allowing for the visitation of prisoners for a reason. Five visits only, the last on Christmas day, 1950. My last Christmas present. I know you were busy, rebuilding the wizarding world. But forty-five years is a very long time, Albus. A very long time."

"I –" Albus began, then stopped. Gellert had always made it harder for him to think clearly.

"Before we go any further," Moody said, breaking the awkward silence, "I want one thing cleared up. I can _maybe_ accept that _he_ ," he nodded at Mordred, "is fighting for the light. _You_ , however," he nodded at Gellert, "are another matter entirely."

Gellert nodded. "Auror Moody, I presume? I admit that it does seem dreadfully unlikely, given my history. But I have had time – considerable time – to reflect. I was – and am – a monster. But sometimes you need a monster to fight a monster. Or so my friend Mordred has told me." He smiled, eyes twinkling.

"And you expect us to believe that you aren't just going to take Voldemort's place?" Moody demanded.

"I have tried ruling before, when I was younger and stronger. I failed then. Why should I expect to succeed now?"

"Then what is your objective?" Minerva asked, speaking for the first time. "If we defeat You-Know-Who, what will you do then?"

"In the unlikely event I survive, you mean?" Gellert asked, amusement evident. "I do not know. Returning to Nurmengard seems rather foolish. Perhaps a quiet retirement?" He glanced at Albus. _Is he asking me to join him?_ Albus fought the temptation to ask.

"Swear it," Moody demanded. "I want an Unbreakable Vow."

"Surely that is not necessary –" Albus began.

"Of course," Gellert replied genially. "Mordred, if you would take my hand? Auror Moody, would you care to act as bonder?"

Mordred and Gellert both knelt on the kitchen floor, each grasping the other's right hand. Moody, surprised, took a moment to stomp over. He touched the tip of his wand to their entwined hands.

"Will you, Gellert Grindelwald, assist in the destruction of the wizard born Tom Riddle?" Mordred asked.

"I will." A thin stream of fire shot out of Moody's wand, weaving around the joined hands.

"And, should he be destroyed, will you refrain from taking his place?"

"I will." A second stream of fire joined the first.

"And finally, will you aid our allies for so long as they remain true?"

"I will." There was a final stream of fire, finalizing the Vow.

For the first time since the dementors had attacked Harry, Albus relaxed. Even Moody seemed to ease. _Working with Gellert again . . . I never thought it would happen. We parted so badly, and when I realized what he'd become . . . . But he's changed. There's a phoenix on his shoulder. I would never have guessed it had I not seen it._

For the first time since the dementors attacked Harry in Little Whinging, Albus Dumbledore felt hope.

A/N: Please review!


	37. Chapter 37

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 37**

"Then what is your objective?" McGonagall asked, speaking for the first time. "If we defeat You-Know-Who, what will you do then?"

"In the unlikely event I survive, you mean?" Gellert asked, amusement evident. "I do not know. Returning to Nurmengard seems rather foolish. Perhaps a quiet retirement?" He glanced at Dumbledore. Severus could see the brief flicker of temptation in the blue eyes.

"Swear it," Moody demanded. "I want an Unbreakable Vow." _Good thing we considered this possibility beforehand_ , Severus reflected.

"Surely that is not necessary –" Dumbledore began.

"Of course," Gellert replied genially. "Mordred, if you would take my hand? Auror Moody, would you care to act as bonder?"

Severus swiftly knelt on the kitchen floor across from Gellert, grasping the other's right hand in his own. It was crucial to act before the Order could recover enough from their surprise to object to him – Gellert's known associate – being the one to phrase the wording of the Vow. Moody, surprised, took a moment to stomp over. _Didn't expect him to take you up on it, did you? Nor to be volunteered as bonder?_ As bonder, Moody would be the only one who could cancel the terms of the Vow. That alone should make the Order feel more confident. Moody touched the tip of his wand to their entwined hands.

"Will you, Gellert Grindelwald, assist in the destruction of the wizard born Tom Riddle?" Severus asked. _The Dark Lord must be destroyed, and – unfortunately – the Order's resources are required to do so. But I am neither of my masters, nor are you a servant. You need not surrender your free will. Giving a few knuts to the "Tom Riddle Destruction Fund" would fulfil the terms of the Vow, should you ever decide to abandon this course._

 _Will anyone else realize my choice of wording? Dumbledore might, under normal circumstances, but he is too infatuated to notice. He might notice later, but by then it will be too late._

"I will." A thin stream of fire shot out of Moody's wand, weaving around the joined hands.

"And, should he be destroyed, will you refrain from taking his place?" _Interpret this however you like. Feel free to become a dark lord again, provided you do not do so as a human-snake hybrid._

"I will." A second stream of fire joined the first.

"And finally, will you aid our allies for so long as they remain true?" _They are already untrue, though nothing I have witnessed suggests that they are self-aware enough to recognize this. Dumbledore broke the terms of our alliance contract almost as soon as it was signed. Failing to aid them will not cause any harm from the Vow._

"I will." There was a final stream of fire, finalizing the Vow.

Severus observed, amused, as the three Gryffindors relaxed. Even Moody, paranoid as he was, seemed to accept Gellert's good intentions towards them.

 _And this is why I should not be the sole Slytherin in the Order. The dimmest of my House would know to include the phrase "to the best of your ability" to achieve optimal results. Then again, half of Slytherin would have recognized the "half-blood Prince" moniker._

Severus rose, and held out a hand to assist Gellert. Healthier though he was, he was still an old man, barely recovered from decades in prison. Gellert accepted the hand and stood as well.

"Now that the question of Gellert's loyalties has been settled, I believe that Mister Dumbledore intended to update us as to his plans?" Severus asked. As with the day before, he fought to control a smirk at the title. _No longer Supreme Mugwump or Chief Warlock, old man. You are no longer Headmaster, or even Professor._

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs around the kitchen table before sitting in one. The others followed.

"Vol – Tom Riddle has somehow secured a means of relatively immunity to death. He can be physically harmed or rendered discorporate, as was proven when young Mister Potter defeated him fourteen years ago. My current aims are twofold. First, to prevent him from increasing his current level of support or power. Second, to determine how he is shielding himself and find a means of undoing that protection," Dumbledore stated.

"And how do you intend to accomplish these objectives, Albus?" Gellert asked. "Raiding Death Eater homes? Legilimizing his followers? Killing them? Researching in libraries?"

Severus saw that both McGonagall and Dumbledore flinched slightly at "killing." Moody did not.

"Certainly not killing them," Dumbledore replied harshly. Moody snorted. "And, unfortunately, raiding their homes or legilimizing them could cause too much backlash given the current political climate. Many of them are considered respected members of society." _More than you are, at this point_ , Severus thought, suppressing a smirk. "Research will be necessary, both in libraries, as you suggested, and into Riddle's past. Beyond that, we shall continue to prevent him from retrieving the prophecy concerning Mister Potter, and attempt to spread the word about his return as best we can."

"Why not destroy the prophecy?" Severus asked. "Also, I believe that Severus suggested to you that Riddle is likely stalling with regards to it, using it as a cover while he works on some other project or projects?"

"We may need to use it as bait in a trap for Tom later," Dumbledore replied equitably.

"Then destroy it and leave a decoy in its place," Severus replied, shrugging slightly.

"How?" Moody snapped. "The Unspeakables aren't exactly likely to tell us how to forge one. I understand they have rather distinctive magical signatures."

Gellert chuckled. "Fortunately for us, we have experts in runes, charms, and transfiguration here, yes? And I believe your eye can read magical signatures?"

Silence.

 _"_ _Please tell me that logic isn't their greatest strength,"_ Hellspawn said.

Severus contained his amusement, but Gellert laughed. The Order members turned to him, confused.

"Forgive me," he said, still chuckling. "Hellspawn simply made an interesting comment." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows inquisitively, but Gellert did not elaborate. "So, unless you have any further objections, we can begin work on the false prophecy and then replace it with the original?"

"I believe that is an excellent idea," McGonagall said, when neither Dumbledore nor Moody seemed likely to respond.

"Excellent," Gellert said, rubbing his hands excitedly. Severus was unpleasantly reminded of a young boy. "And for your other concerns, why should the current political climate prevent you from raiding Death Eater homes or attacking them? Surely, you have a convenient scapegoat already? Simply draw my old symbol on your robes, cover your faces or take polyjuice, and you can blame any incidents on me. I hardly need worry about someone ruining my pristine reputation."

To Severus's surprise, Moody laughed. "Aye, that would work."

"Would you be attacking these homes yourself?" McGonagall asked.

Gellert shrugged. "Perhaps. If it assists with the overall objective."

"And what would you do should you encounter any Death Eaters?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Ask them to join me. Better to have them working for us than for Riddle, no? Failing that, attack them. Interrogate them if I can. Kill them, if the situation warrants it. If not, capture or otherwise incapacitate them."

Moody nodded thoughtfully. McGonagall turned to Severus, frowning. "You approve of this?"

He shrugged. "We are at war. It is only logical to recruit potential defectors, and soldiers are sometimes forced to kill. With the possible exception of yourself, Headmistress McGonagall, we are all murderers in this room."

A/N: Please review!


	38. Chapter 38

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 38**

Minerva turned to Mordred, uncomfortable. "You approve of this?"

He shrugged. "We are at war. It is only logical to recruit potential defectors, and soldiers are sometimes forced to kill. With the possible exception of yourself, Headmistress McGonagall, we are all murderers in this room."

"There's a difference between killing Death Eaters and murder," Moody snarled. Minerva frowned. _Is there? If they kill us, it's murder. It should be murder if we kill them as well._

"Dahlia Wilkes," Mordred replied coolly. "She was still in the house when you burned it to ash. I understand that your words at the time were, 'This will teach that Death Eater bastard a lesson.' I hear that Octavian took it to heart. He was certainly less merciful towards the opposition following the death of his non-combatant wife."

Moody's scarred and ruined face became stricken, and he fell suddenly silent. Minerva wondered if he had not known. For several long seconds, no one spoke. Minerva felt herself grow pale as realization struck her. Albus Dumbledore had not refuted Mordred's words.

At last, Dumbledore spoke. "Surely, there are alternatives to killing them? If we do so, we become no better than those we seek to defeat."

Mordred laughed mockingly. "How do you intend to defeat Riddle? Will you lock him in a prison, as you did Gellert? As we so recently demonstrated, prison walls can be broken."

 _That is a remarkably good point,_ Minerva thought.

"There is a difference between stopping Tom and killing all of his followers!" Dumbledore retorted.

Mordred raised a mocking eyebrow. It struck Minerva as familiar, though she could not place how. "Who said we would kill all of them? As Gellert said, it would be based on the situation. Or should we aim only to capture if we see Bellatrix Lestrange, for instance, torturing another family into insanity?"

"I agree," Minerva said, glancing sharply at Dumbledore. Alice and Frank Longbottom had been her students. Later, they had become her friends. No one else should suffer as they had. Bellatrix Lestrange had been captured, and Azkaban had seemed sufficient at the time. _But now . . . You-Know-Who broke her out of prison once already. What was it that Severus sometimes would say to her? "The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over again but expecting different results," or something along those lines._

"Minerva –" Dumbledore began.

"No, Albus," Minerva interrupted. "As the only _non-murderer_ in this room, my perspective might be different than all of yours. Yet I cannot condone letting monsters like Lestrange run free to commit atrocity after atrocity. We are, as Mordred said, at war. I remember the war against Grindelwald. Our forces had to kill then. Even you admitted the necessity at the time. You-Know-Who may not have as large an army, but his methods are far worse." Across from her, Grindelwald's lips twitched slightly.

"Exactly what I have been trying to tell you, Albus," Moody agreed.

Dumbledore stared at her, looking very old and sad. He sighed. "So be it. I can only hope, my dear, that you reconsider. Do not let your soul be scarred."

"Excellent. So it is settled," Mordred said. "Gellert, as you may need to work with the Order on the various raids, would you care to be the primary liaison between our two groups? During the school year, of course, Severus can relay his reports to Headmistress McGonagall."

Grindelwald nodded. "Certainly. It will be lovely to work with Albus again." Minerva caught a slight flush appear on Dumbledore's face. _So, they were more than simply enemies, at least at one point. I had heard a few hints from Bathilda, but never actually believed them. It looks like she was right after all._

"Would you care to stay with us here?" Dumbledore asked.

"Thank you, but no. As luxurious as your headquarters undoubtedly are," Grindelwald said, and Minerva fought a snort, "the space that Mordred has kindly provided is more than sufficient for my needs."

"You will, I hope, at least join us for dinner?" Dumbledore asked.

Grindelwald and Mordred glanced at one another. The phoenix trilled. Mordred shrugged, and the phoenix flew from Grindelwald back to his shoulder.

"We would be delighted," Grindelwald said. Dumbledore beamed.

-DVDVDV-

They retired to the library as they waited for Molly Weasley to finish the dinner preparations. Gellert was chatting with Dumbledore, occasionally flirting with the man to keep him off balance. _Who would have guessed that the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore had such a glaring chink in his armor?_ Severus mused. Unfortunately, that left him with Moody and McGonagall. _At least soon I will no longer have to deal with the Order directly._ For all that it was effective, pretending to be someone he was not grated on his nerves.

"Headmistress McGonagall," he said, "have you selected a replacement potions professor yet?"

McGonagall sighed. "No. And I still need to find a defense professor. Unless you'd be interested, Alastor?"

Moody snorted. "Because it worked so well last time? Besides, there's too much for me to do out here now that Voldie's back." He paused. "Don't you need someone for transfiguration, too?"

"As I am only the interim headmistress, I will continue to teach classes. Should the appointment become permanent, then yes, I would need to appoint a successor."

Severus nodded, and then reached into an inner pocket to remove a piece of parchment. Inclining his head slightly, he handed it to McGonagall. "Severus anticipated that you might require assistance with your search. To that end, he compiled a list of potential candidates. However, he instructed me to stress that the choice is ultimately yours, and that the list is by no means comprehensive." Severus did not add that this was the same list of names that he kept regularly updated, and that each year he included it as an appendix to his – always rejected – annual resignation.

"Thank you," McGonagall said, scanning the list. "And please, thank Severus for me as well." Severus nodded. "Do you think he would be interested in the deputy position? I cannot offer it officially, as mine is only an interim appointment for now, but Albus suggested him as the most likely candidate." Moody snorted.

 _No! No, absolutely not. Are you bloody insane? Why would anyone even think that I would want that?_

Hellspawn's laughter rang in his mind. _"Congratulations! Potential unofficial deputy headmaster . . . you're moving up in the world!"_ Severus glared at him. _"_ _You know what they say – it's the thought that counts."_

"You are less amusing than you assume," Severus snapped at Hellspawn. Moody and McGonagall both seemed surprised by his tone and comment. _Stay in character_ , he reminded himself. To McGonagall, he said, "I suspect that Severus would prefer not to undertake those duties, Headmistress McGonagall, although I can certainly ask him should you wish. Further, should your appointment be made permanent – as I hope is the case – I would recommend first asking him unofficially, as otherwise he might find himself . . . pressured . . . to accept the post, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter." From the slight widening of her eyes, Severus guessed that she had not previously considered that the Dark Lord might have forced him to accept.

Tonks hesitantly knocked on the door. She stared at Gellert before shaking herself. "Molly asked me to let you know that dinner's ready."

On the way back to the kitchen, Tonks turned to Severus and said, very quietly, "Sir, you're in contact with Professor Snape, right?" Severus raised an eyebrow, but nodded. She flushed, but continued, "Could you please tell him that I'm sorry? I've – I've been thinking about what I saw . . . what we all did to him. It wasn't . . . it wasn't right. I know he probably won't ever forgive me – forgive us – for what happened. But we're supposed to be better than that. I became an auror to _stop_ things like that."

Severus stopped walking and observed Tonks' face for several long seconds, assessing her sincerity. He remembered her as a student. For all that she was a metamorphmagus, she always had difficulty hiding her emotions. She seemed genuine. He believed her.

 _But can I forgive her?_

Severus inclined his head slightly. "I shall convey your words to him, Auror Tonks. Although I cannot promise that he will forgive you for your actions – or your inaction, as the case may be – I nevertheless appreciate that you have apologized. You are the only one to have done so."

Tonks nodded, and then said, voice still quiet. "I know some of the others felt bad about it. Remus and Kingsley . . . well, I don't think they'll do something like that again. Professor McGonagall blew a gasket when she heard." She glanced in McGonagall's direction, but the older woman was now several paces ahead and did not seem to have heard. "She reamed Professor Dumbledore out – If it hadn't been for the silencing charms, you could have heard her a mile away. I'd never imagined she even _knew_ some of those words." She grinned slightly at the memory.

"Thank you, Auror Tonks. I am relieved to hear that you are not the only member of your organization with a conscience." _And Minerva yelled at Dumbledore? I would have loved to have been a witness to that._

 _Tonks, Lupin, and Shacklebolt . . . can I wrench them from Dumbledore's grasp?_ Lupin was a lost cause, too weak to act on his own. _But Tonks and Shacklebolt . . . stealing his two active aurors could be devastating to the old man._

A/N: Please review!


	39. Chapter 39

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 39**

Severus had been silently dreading the meal since he agreed to join the Order for dinner. While he had no doubt that Molly Weasley's cooking was more than adequate, his appetite was negligible under the best of circumstances. He loathed eating in front of others, and eating with Black and Lupin brought back far too many unpleasant memories of dining in the Great Hall as a student, only for some hex to be directed his way or some prank potion to be secretly added to his food.

It was, if anything, even more excruciating than he had expected.

 _Why, why did I think that eating dinner with Gellert Grindelwald and the Order of the Phoenix would be a good idea?_ Severus asked himself. _Just because I – as myself – never ate with them, and this would help solidify my persona as someone different? It's not worth it._

While the whole Order was not present, it was more than crowded enough. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, Black, Tonks, Lupin, the Weasleys, the Grangers, and Potter . . . _Of such things are nightmares born._

A very tense Moly Weasley had heaped a huge slab of turkey and mounds of mashed potatoes onto his plate, without even asking him how much he would like. Severus had to fight not to stare at it in horror. _This is almost as much food as I normally eat in a week. Is the woman trying to kill me?_

 _"_ _Is she secretly working for the Dark Lord?"_ Hellspawn asked. _"Perhaps this is a cunning ploy to weaken all of you by making you fat and lazy."_

Gellert laughed. Black glared at him. "Care to share the joke?" he snarled.

"Hellspawn simply commented on the delightful spread. It is most unlike what we are used to getting from Severus," Gellert replied equitably.

"Snape does your cooking?" Fred Weasley blurted.

"When it suits him, yes. I fear he often forgets to eat," Gellert replied. "He also has some _unique_ ideas as to what makes for a suitable meal."

The Grangers chuckled slightly. Severus suppressed a frown.

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, amused.

"I shall simply say that he is as innovative in the kitchen as he doubtless is in the laboratory. Unless Brussels sprout and pomegranate soufflés became popular during my long incarceration?" Severus fought a scowl as a wave of laughter passed through the room. Mockery while dining was all too familiar, and it killed what little appetite he had. The laughter faded when Gellert continued, "It was surprisingly delicious. I do not know how he does it, but it was most impressive."

"Trying to curry favor, is he?" Black muttered. "Is he shagging you, too? I understand he has a thing for dark lords."

The adult Order members stiffened. Tonks glared at Black, and Lupin frowned. The Grangers, the Weasley children, and Potter looked confused.

"Sirius Black, you disgust me. I am ashamed to have been your Head of House," McGonagall said angrily.

"No, I prefer willing bed partners," Gellert replied, voice icy. He glanced at Dumbledore. "Besides, at this point in my life, rekindling an old flame seems more likely than finding someone new."

Severus waited just long enough to ensure that the others would recognize the implications of Gellert's words but not long enough for them to respond before saying, "We are all allies in this endeavor, Mister Black. Earlier this evening, Lord Grindelwald made an Unbreakable Vow to assist against Tom Riddle, and to aid the Order of the Phoenix in their efforts. As you can no doubt see, he remains alive. Thus, I would ask that you treat him as you would any other valued comrade in arms, regardless of your personal animosity towards him or Master Snape." With some slight amusement, he noted that most of the people in the room appeared to relax at this. Granger's parents seemed confused, but as muggles they likely were not familiar with the Vow. Even Black subsided, although he still looked mutinous. _I wonder . . . If I had made an Unbreakable Vow to the Order, would they have trusted me? Not that it matters at this point._

With his left hand, Severus made a practiced gesture over the meal. Nothing flashed. _Damn . . . I was hoping the food had been tampered with. It would give me an excuse not to eat it._

"I recognize that gesture," Lupin commented, breaking the awkward silence. "Severus would do that whenever he ate in the Great Hall. It's a check for contaminants, isn't it?"

Severus inclined his head. "Indeed."

"Don't trust us?" Black demanded. Lupin sighed, while Molly Weasley glared at him.

Dumbledore frowned. "Sirius, that is enough."

"It is largely a habit at this point. However, I would recommend that everyone test their food regardless of their familiarity with the chef. After all, it is not inconceivable in the current environment that someone preparing the meal would be placed under the _imperius_ curse. Alternatively, a person's loved ones might be held hostage. If Tom Riddle held your children prisoner, Mrs. Weasley, would you not poison me in exchange for their lives?" Severus replied.

The Weasley matriarch had turned ashen at his words. Predictably, the Weasley children and Potter rushed to their feet to protest her honor. Severus chuckled. "I fail to see why you are offended by this. Would you, Fred Weasley, not poison me if it meant saving the life of your twin? Would you, Mister Potter, refuse to harm Lord Grindelwald if doing so were necessary to protect Mister Black?"

The Weasley twins glanced at one another, and then sat, flushing. A moment later, Potter and the two youngest Weasleys also sat.

Moody laughed. "Constant vigilance, aye? You lot should learn from him."

Severus ate a bite of food. It was, at least, palatable.

"Sir," Hermione Granger began, sounding more tentative than she usually did. "Is Professor Snape alright?" Beside her, Potter scowled.

Severus raised an eyebrow. _Why would she care?_ "He is as well as he ever is, Miss Granger," he replied, and he was surprised to see her relax at this. "Might I ask why you are inquiring?"

She flushed. "He – he saved my family. I know that something happened after that, but – but no one is saying the specifics, just that he got in some kind of trouble and there was a fight, and that now he's working for you."

"And do you wish to know what happened, Miss Granger?" he asked. _The adults here all know. Why not air their dirty secrets?_ Everyone in the room had turned to him. She nodded.

"Perhaps this is not the most suitable topic –" Dumbledore began. At the same time, Molly Weasley said, "I don't think –"

"Six members of the Order of the Phoenix attacked Severus Snape after he returned from spying on Tom Riddle," Severus interrupted them. He strengthened his occlumency shields, letting none of the seething phoenix fire through. His tone was flat, unemotional. "They assaulted his mind until he bled, risking permanent brain damage in an attempt to uncover answers he did not possess. They watched as Tom Riddle violated his body, and then fed him veritaserum to see if he had enjoyed it. Master Snape joined the Order of the Phoenix fifteen years ago at my request. Should I have my way, he will never return to it. Does that answer your question, Miss Granger?"

Granger's eyes had filled with tears as he spoke. Her parents, shocked, rose and reached out to her, enveloping her in a hug. _Hmmm . . . Perhaps none of the Grangers knew. Worried the muggles would condemn you?_ The other children had obviously not heard the details of what transpired, either. They stared at the adult Order members in horror.

"Sirius, is that true?" Potter asked.

"It wasn't like that!" Black protested. "He's not telling you how sick those memories were – what Snape did in them. You were attacked by those dementors, and we'd had no warning! And then Snape showed up, and claimed that Voldemort hadn't even mentioned it! He's our spy – how could he not know?"

"It was reprehensible," McGonagall stated firmly. "I, for one, am ashamed to be associated with a group that condones such behavior." Tonks nodded, looking awkward, and Lupin stared uncomfortably down at his plate.

"It was a terrible error in judgment," Dumbledore said. He sounded old and tired. "One that I should never have allowed."

"But –" Black began.

"Your obsessive hatred is appalling!" McGonagall snapped. "You received Severus's warning about Azkaban and chose to ignore it just because you dislike him! I may have overlooked your actions as a student, Mister Black, you are an adult now. Act like one."

Silence fell upon the group. The twins glanced at one another, and then began to eat again. The others soon followed suit.

Severus picked at his food. "Hellspawn, you are, of course, welcome to share with me," he said.

 _"_ _Oh, no. That's turkey on your plate._ _That's too much like cannibalism for me."_

"The mashed potatoes are delicious," Severus said. _Come on, you bloody bird, just take some of this damn food from me. I will be sick if I eat even half of what's here._

 _"_ _None for me. They might have been contaminated with turkey juice,"_ Hellspawn replied, sounding amused. Severus could see Gellert trying to hide a smile.

Molly Weasley smiled. "Would you care for some more, dear?"

"Thank you, but I still have some left." _Will anyone notice if I silently vanish it?_

 _Dinner is going to kill me._

A/N: Please review!


	40. Chapter 40

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 40**

"Mister Potter, might I have a moment of your time?" Mordred asked.

"Um, I guess. Why?" Harry asked. He was not certain how he felt about the tall blond man. Dumbledore wanted everyone to trust him, but Sirius had warned him that Mordred was disguised and wasn't even using his real name. _How can you trust someone if you don't know who they are?_

"Wait just a moment!" Sirius snapped. "I don't want my godson alone with you. You implied yesterday that you were a dark wizard, probably a murderer." For a moment, Harry felt warmth course through him at Sirius's concern, before frowning. _Sirius ignored a warning about the Azkaban breakout just because he hates Snape. What if Mordred has something equally important to say? Should I ignore it just because you don't like him, either? Besides, I'm not a child. I can take care of myself._

"I am a murderer, yes," Mordred replied equably. "As is Lord Grindelwald. As is Mister Dumbledore. As is Auror Moody. As is Mister Potter himself."

There was a loud crash as Tonks dropped a plate on the floor.

"I am not a murderer!" Harry shouted, suddenly furious. _Sirius was right. He's not worth listening to._

"You can't count his defeat of You-Know-Who as murder!" McGonagall protested.

"This is uncalled for," Dumbledore chided.

Mordred merely raised an eyebrow. Calmly, he said, "I do not refer to his defeat of Tom Riddle, but rather his actions towards Professor Quirinus Quirrell."

"He was helping Voldemort!" Harry shouted, temper flaring as it so often did these days.

"He was possessed by Tom Riddle. I believe that Miss Weasley was likewise possessed a year later? You recognized her innocence then. Professor Quirrell was likely no more a willing accomplice than she."

"No!" Harry snapped. _That can't be right, can it?_ "He said that he wanted to help Voldemort!"

"And if you had spoken to Miss Weasley whilst she was in the throes of possession, she would doubtless have said the same."

Ginny began sobbing. Mrs. Weasley rushed over to comfort her. "He's – he's right, Harry. I prob-probably would have. I had such gaps in my memories. He completely – completely took me over." Mrs. Weasley gently held her while glaring angrily at Mordred.

Mordred continued implacably, "Before his sabbatical and subsequent possession by Tom Riddle, Quirinus Quirrell was a mild-mannered professor who taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts for several years. He argued that muggles are as human as wizards, and deserve equal rights. He would have been very unlikely to follow Tom Riddle of his own accord."

Harry felt stunned. The anger seemed to have drained out of him. "Why tell me this?" he asked, voice breaking as he spoke.

"Actions have consequences. You cannot make informed decisions without recognizing the repercussions of your deeds. Would you have preferred not to know, Mister Potter? To believe that Professor Quirrell was evil incarnate, rather than a tragic victim? Would that help you the next time you encounter someone controlled against his will?" Mordred asked.

"He would have gotten the Philosopher's Stone, though, if I hadn't done anything," Harry protested. He knew he sounded weak, pleading.

"Would he? Did Mister Dumbledore not enact protections so that only those who sought to find the Stone, but not to use it, would be able to retrieve it? Was it not your desire, rather than that of Tom Riddle or his possessed slave, that freed the Stone from its safety, endangering us all? From Severus's reports, I understand that the original plan was to stall Riddle until Mister Dumbledore could contain him in a spirit prison."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, eyes pleading for the old wizard to deny Mordred's words. Dumbledore only looked sad. _My actions_ prevented _Voldemort from being captured? If I'd done nothing, could he have stopped Voldemort from returning at all, instead of only delaying him?_

"Mate, you couldn't have known," Ron said awkwardly.

"But why didn't you tell me afterwards?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"You could not have known, Harry, and I was so proud of your courage in facing Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "What happened to Quirinus wasn't your fault. It was Voldemort's. I saw no need to burden an eleven-year-old boy with that information."

And Harry felt his anger rising again. "Is there anything else you didn't tell me? Did I mess something up with the diary, too? With Sirius? If I'd known more, could I have saved Cedric?" he shouted. "Would Cedric still be alive if you'd told me?" he asked, more softly.

Dumbledore sighed. "No, my boy. No, you acted as well and as bravely as anyone could have hoped. There was nothing more."

"Yes, there is," Mordred disagreed. "Severus has relayed his knowledge of events to me, and I am aware of several other major lapses in judgment. Perhaps you could have saved Mister Diggory, perhaps not. But it is always advantageous to review your mistakes and learn from them. With your permission, I shall compile a list of suggestions for Gellert to give you the next time he visits. He may also have some ideas of his own to add."

"Now wait a moment –" Sirius began.

"Thank you," Harry said. To Sirius, he added, "I can follow them or not, but it can't hurt to _know_ , can it?"

Sirius sighed. "No, I suppose not. Just don't beat yourself up too much, okay?"

"And now, if I might have that word with Mister Potter in private?" Mordred asked.

Reluctantly, the others left the room. Sirius waited for Harry to nod before exiting.

"What do you want, Mister Mordred?" Harry asked.

Mordred smiled slightly. "First, it is simply Mordred, although I appreciate the attempt at courtesy. Should you require an honorific, Prince Mordred would suffice. However, I do not require such a title appended to my pseudonym."

Harry didn't recognize all of those words, but he could understand the gist of what Mordred was saying. "Why call yourself Mordred, sir? I mean, wasn't he the bad guy?"

"Perhaps. I suppose it depends on one's point of view. According to legend, Merlin informed King Arthur of a prophecy that his son would overthrow him some day. In response, King Arthur sentenced all the newly born male infants in his kingdom to death. Through luck, only Mordred survived the purge. Merlin then informed King Arthur that it was his own actions that caused his downfall. For though King Arthur was a good man in all other things, nothing could erase the stain on his soul from the slaughter if so many innocents. It was this stain that would allow Mordred to defeat him.

"And so I ask you, Mister Potter, was Mordred evil?"

Something about that story seemed very familiar to Harry. _It's like what happened with me and Voldemort, except that there wasn't a prophecy about me defeating him someday_ , he realized. He frowned. If Mordred was right, it certainly changed his opinion of the King Arthur stories. _But does that make King Arthur evil? Does one act of evil cancel an entire lifetime of being good? Can a lifetime of being good cancel out killing all those infants?_

 _Was Mordred wrong to fight King Arthur, who tried to kill him? Who did kill so many others? But didn't Mordred do other bad things?_ Harry couldn't remember the stories well enough to be sure.

"I'm not sure, sir," he said at last. "What do you think?"

"Very few people are truly good or truly evil, Mister Potter. Interesting people are both good and evil. Dull people are neither good nor evil. I suspect that the original Mordred was an interesting person."

Harry thought about this. He did not like what the man was saying. Things should be _simple_. The Order of the Phoenix was good. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were evil. He suddenly remembered what Mordred had said earlier. _According to him, Dumbledore is a murderer. So is Moody. So am I. We're working with Grindelwald, who's supposed to be incredibly evil, almost as bad as Voldemort._ "Voldemort's evil," he said firmly.

"Yes," Mordred agreed.

Harry was thrown by the lack of argument. "And Grindelwald is evil." This time, the words were less firm.

"Yes, although in his case, Lord Grindelwald is at least attempting to atone for his actions."

"Like King Arthur did, you mean?" Harry asked. Mordred inclined his head. Harry decided to change the subject. This was already too much for him to consider, and philosophy was never his strong suit. Maybe Hermione could help him figure it out. _But we're not talking at the moment,_ he reminded himself. He suddenly felt guilty. She had defended Snape, and he had shouted at her for it. And now it turned out that she had been right all along."But you wanted to say something to me, sir?"

"Indeed, Mister Potter. I was hoping that you might consent to say a few phrases for me in parseltongue."

A/N:

Yes, this is an actual part of Arthurian legend. Several of the medieval versions of the story mention that King Arthur tried to prevent the prophecy by killing all the baby boys born at that time. In doing so, he lost his divine protection and was therefore vulnerable when the only survivor of the purge (Mordred) confronted him as an adult.

Please review!


	41. Chapter 41

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 41**

While Mordred was speaking with Harry, Emma and Dan Granger met one another's eyes. Retreating back to their room, they held a short, whispered conversation away from the witches and wizards.

"I think we should leave here," Dan said. "They obviously aren't telling us everything, probably because we're not magical." He sighed. "Professor Snape is the only one who bothered to explain anything to us, and he's not coming back. Not that I blame him," he added angrily.

Emma nodded. "If what they did to Professor Snape is indicative of how they treat their allies, I don't want anything to do with them. But where can we go? Those men are still going to be after Hermione. We need her to stay somewhere safe."

They thought in silence for a few minutes. "Maybe ask this Mordred fellow?" Emma suggested.

Dan frowned. "I'm not sure. He seems reasonable enough, but he's admitted to being a murderer, and he's working with Grindelwald. I mean, that's basically the same as joining forces with the Nazis. Do we want to trust someone like that?"

Emma sighed. "The Order of the Phoenix is working with Grindelwald now, too. Maybe it's like how both the United States and Russia fought to recruit ex-Nazi scientists during the Cold War? The needs of the time outweighing the ethical objections? I wish I knew more about the politics of this world . . . I'm not sure how right our assumptions are. As for murdering people . . . it seems half the people here are killers. Professor Snape even killed two of those Death Eaters who attacked us, remember?"

"There's a difference between killing in war and murder, though," Dan argued.

"I'm not sure if wizards differentiate between the two," Emma said thoughtfully. "They seem to call the Death Eaters murderers, but that's basically being a soldier in a war, right? A soldier on the wrong side, but still a soldier." She sighed. "God only knows what their laws are."

Dan sighed. "What have we gotten Hermione into?" He looked to his wife, eyes haunted. "Maybe you're right, dear. Professor Snape is working for Mordred now. We can at least ask the man. We don't have to do what he suggests." Emma nodded.

-DVDVDV-

Severus was surprised to see Granger's parents waiting for him after he finished speaking with Potter. Fortunately, it had taken only minimal cajoling to convince the brat to say a few words in parseltongue. _Perhaps making the request after discussing relative morality was not the wisest course. But only fools believe that a_ language _is evil. Of course, the world is made up of fools._

More interesting was watching Potter's reactions to the tale of King Arthur and Mordred. The boy clearly recognized the parallels between him and the Dark Lord, but from what Severus could see, Potter did not know of the existence of the first prophecy. _How strange that Dumbledore would not trust his golden Gryffindor._

"Doctor Granger and Doctor Granger," he greeted. "Might I assist you?"

"I hope so," said Emma Granger. "We're worried about our daughter. After everything, well, we don't really feel comfortable staying here. But we can't go home, not with those Death Eaters still after Hermione. Professor Snape saved us. He was decent to us, too, and explained things better than anyone here has. Since you're his . . . boss, maybe? . . . we were hoping you could give us some advice."

Severus raised an eyebrow. He had not expected his interactions with the Grangers to leave such an impression. _Granger does all of Potter's thinking for him. It could be useful to have her on my side. And her parents were reasonably behaved._ "I believe that your daughter is friendly with Mister Viktor Krum? I understand that his family is financially secure, and would likely have security already in place to prevent most attacks.

"If that option is not available, school will resume in three weeks," he continued slowly. "It is possible that, should you explain your case to Headmistress McGonagall, she would allow your daughter to return to Hogwarts ahead of schedule. There is a standing policy forbidding this, but she might be convinced to disregard it if necessary.

"Alternatively, Headmistress McGonagall might know of another location in which you and your daughter might reside until term resumes. I fear that my organization is more hesitant to invite others into our secure locations than the Order of the Phoenix is, in part due to the security concerns I mentioned at dinner." _And also because they consist entirely of my pathetic house, which you've already seen, and a converted muggle storage crate._ "However, if the headmistress is unable to offer a suitable alternative, I can ask Severus if he would be willing to host you again." Severus desperately hoped it would not come to that. He knew his life would be easier if Granger were firmly on his side, but he loathed the very idea of allowing her and her parents back into his personal space.

The Grangers nodded. "We'd rather not impose on Professor Snape more than we already have, but we'll speak with Hermione about Viktor. We can also ask Professor McGonagall. Thank you. And please thank Professor Snape again for us when you see him."

-DVDVDV-

Hermione returned to the room she shared with Ginny and began to write a letter to Viktor explaining the situation without giving too many details in case it was intercepted. She was fairly certain he would be willing to have her and her parents visit him in Bulgaria. He had, after all, lamented how brief her visit was earlier in the summer, and had asked her to consider returning during her winter break.

Her parents had also spoken with Professor McGonagall, and she had agreed to let Hermione return to Hogwarts early if Viktor was unable or unwilling to help. It could only be as a last resort, though, since Lucius Malfoy and the other governors would surely be suspicious, and that could harm McGonagall's standing as interim headmistress. _And since, officially, Malfoy didn't attack my family with two other Death Eaters, there aren't any exceptional circumstances._

Hermione heard a knock on the door and looked up. Harry stood in the doorway. "Hi, Hermione," he said, sounding sheepish. "Can I talk with you?"

"Sure," she said. "What's this about?" _You have barely spoken to me at all in the last week._

He paused, and then sat on a corner of the bed. "I wanted to . . . I wanted to apologize," he said at last. "You were right, maybe, about Snape, I mean. I shouldn't have yelled at you for defending him, especially not after he saved your family. I was just so – so _angry_. After Cedric . . . . And then no one telling me what's going on. And Snape is just so – so nasty and cruel all the time. And he's supposed to be our spy, right, so why didn't he know? But then, I'm here, where the anti-Voldemort group is, and _I_ don't know even half of what we're doing. So why would he know everything that Voldemort is planning?

"And tonight, hearing what they did to him, it really hit me. I mean, if I'd been there, would I have stopped it? So many times, I've _wanted_ to see Snape get what he deserves. To see him tortured. I've imagined it, sometimes, in class. I'd like to think I wouldn't – I mean, who _does_ something like that? But if Sirius and Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore and everyone else were there and just – just did nothing? Why would I be any better?" Harry stared at her, not really seeing her. "And then Mordred started talking to me about good and evil and most people being both, or neither, or something. I didn't really understand it. And I thought I should ask you to explain it, but then remembered that we weren't talking, and that it was my fault, and –"

"Breathe, Harry," Hermione interrupted. He stopped talking, and then smiled slightly.

"Sorry, it's just a lot, you know?"

"I know, Harry. I know."

A/N: Please review!


	42. Chapter 42

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 42**

Albus Dumbledore was neither stupid nor senile.

He was, however, in love.

As excuses went, that was one he would have immediately accepted from anyone else. Love can blind the most brilliant of wizards, he would have told them. There would have been a merry twinkle in his eye as he said it.

It was not an excuse he would accept from himself.

Albus knew that Gellert's escape from Nurmengard had muddled his thinking. Albus knew that Gellert's presence tonight had unsettled his normally clear mind. Unfortunately, Albus also knew that his awareness of the problem did not entirely nullify the effect.

He was distracted. He missed some of the signs as they were happening. His responses were too feeble, too delayed.

And so Albus sat in the bedroom of his small cottage, a house he had barely visited in decades, reviewing recent events. He thought over Sybill's prophecy about the half-blood prince. He considered Mordred, and Gellert, and how everything had fallen apart.

He had been blindsided by too many disasters in too short a time. He was not, however, blind.

Looking back, the terms of Gellert's Unbreakable Vow bothered him, but Albus could not immediately place why. _Some ambiguity, perhaps?_ He considered the phrasing again. The first two points seemed clear enough, but the third . . . "for so long as they remain true." _Had the Order been untrue?_ He reviewed their interactions with Mordred. _No, we have not betrayed them. Unless minor points of dissent count?_ He thought of Sirius's behavior at dinner. _Would that constitute intentionally undermining our allies? Would that be enough to be deemed "untrue?"_ He considered carefully. _No, surely not. Even Mordred admitted that he did not expect perfect compliance with that provision._

But this led to another thought, one not so easily dismissed.

 _Mordred_ has _been undermining me. He has been doing so since we first met. He must know what his comments about phoenixes would do. He has repeatedly referred to me as a murderer. For all that he calls himself one as well, it does more damage to my credibility than to his. Surely he must know this._

That Gellert would help Mordred caused a small pang of jealousy. _But is it so surprising? I stopped Gellert's reign of terror. I trapped him in a prison of his own making for fifty years. I did not even bother to visit him after the first five. Whereas Mordred apparently corresponded with him for years._

Fawkes flew to him. _"You look disturbed. What's troubling you?"_

"Mordred," Albus said, gently stroked the phoenix's head. "There is something about him, something familiar and yet just slightly _off_ that I cannot place." Albus frowned, unable to pinpoint what exactly was amiss. _Perhaps his entire persona? There is something indefinably_ wrong _, beyond the obvious disguise._ Albus wished that he knew the prince's true identity. Perhaps that would make the situation clearer.

He sighed, still stroking Fawkes. As he did so, he felt the phoenix fire blaze through him, replacing some of his melancholy with hope. Some of the twinkle returned to his eyes even as he smiled sadly. "I fear that I have been played for a great fool. I so wanted to believe that our fortunes had shifted, that Mordred had chosen us over Voldemort. I had forgotten that it _was_ a choice. I saw his phoenix and believed in the best. But I forgot that you assist the struggling, not the saved."

 _"_ _You think that he has aligned himself with Voldemort?"_

Albus almost nodded, but then shook his head. "Perhaps. I cannot see how he could have done so, not with Gellert swearing an Unbreakable Vow to assist with Tom's destruction. Unless Mordred plans to betray Gellert as well. And there is too much obvious comradery between them for me to believe that. Hellspawn, too, appears to favor Gellert nearly as much as Mordred."

 _"_ _Then what has you so concerned?"_ Fawkes asked.

"I overlook that sometimes there are more sides than simply 'us' and 'them.' Perhaps I have become too much a Gryffindor. I believe – truly believe – that Mordred will oppose Voldemort. And yet . . . ."

 _"_ _The enemy of your enemy is not always your ally,"_ Fawkes finished the thought. Albus nodded. _"_ _Does it matter?"_ the phoenix asked gently. _"_ _Would you not sacrifice yourself to stop Voldemort and his followers?"_

"Of course I would," Albus replied without hesitation.

 _"_ _Then perhaps this is your sacrifice. Not your life, but your prestige. Or is leading more important than living?"_

Albus smiled. _This is why I need you, Fawkes. You remind me of what truly matters._ "Thank you, my friend." He paused, thinking. "I should visit Gringotts. They are tracking violations of the contract. If Mordred has been honest in opposing Voldemort, I can accept whatever damage may come to my reputation as the price of victory. But if this is merely a ploy, then it is better that I know now."

-DVDVDV-

 **"** **Greetings,"** Albus said in Gobbledegook to the Gringotts teller. **"I wish to review the Milton Marlowe accounts."** This had been one of the code phrases specified in the contract, and would allow the Order to review any violations made by the Penitent Damned.

The goblin leafed through a stack of parchments. **"** **Very well. Fangrock!"** Another goblin hurried over. **"** **Take Mister Dumbledore to one of the reading rooms. Bring him the Milton Marlowe accounts."**

Fangrock led Albus to a small room with a table and two chairs. Albus settled himself into one and waited. The goblin returned a few minutes later with a thin folder. He handed it to Albus.

 **"** **Thank you,"** Albus said. **"Might I also review the Johann Wolfgang accounts?"** That was the code phrase that would allow the Penitent Damned to view the list of the Order's violations.

Fangrock sneered at him. **"You are authorized only to access the Milton Marlowe file."**

 _Ah, well. It had been worth a try._ In retrospect, it had been very foolish of him to accept the provision for separate records. He had been too hasty, too ready after his recent setbacks to trust the prophesied half-blood prince.

 **"** **I understand,"** Albus said politely. **"May your gold ever flow."** Fangrock gave a very curt bow, still sneering. He waited implacably as Albus opened the folder. _Not going to allow me to remove or tamper with anything_ , Albus thought, amused. He carefully perused the contents.

 _Violation 1: August 7, 1995: The Penitent Damned failed to divulge pertinent information. The Penitent Damned considered this information to be of moderate importance. Note: No longer in violation as of August 9, 1995._

Albus frowned. He guessed that the information from the first violation related to the dementor attack in Little Whinging. Mordred must have already received Severus's report when they signed the contract, but he had only shared that knowledge after meeting the Order at Grimmauld Place. Albus continued reading.

 _Violation 2: August 9, 1995: The Penitent Damned undermined the authority of a member of the Order of the Phoenix. No outright antagonism. Minor offense._

 _Violation 3: August 9, 1995: The Penitent Damned undermined the authority of a member of the Order of the Phoenix. No outright antagonism. Minor offense._

Albus noted a few more near-identical entries from the 9th, when Mordred had introduced himself to the Order, and several more from the 10th, when Mordred and Gellert had come to Grimmauld Place. There were no major violations. Albus relaxed.

 _Mordred clearly does not like me, but he is not actively working against the Order._ Albus remembered what Mordred had said in their first meeting: "You will, I expect, disapprove of some of my methods. I certainly disapprove of many of yours." Mordred's words to the Order chaffed, but did not set him utterly opposed to them. If he were not seeking Voldemort's death, that would have appeared as a violation of the contract. _I managed to work with Barty Crouch in the first war, and we seldom saw eye-to-eye. I can work with Mordred now. I will need to be more careful, to watch him more closely. But if I must fall to take down Voldemort, it will be a price well paid._

A/N:

John Milton is, of course, the author of _Paradise Lost_ , from which this fic gets its title. Christopher Marlowe was a contemporary of Shakespeare and wrote the play _Doctor Faustus_. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote _Faust._

Please review!


	43. Chapter 43

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 43**

Minerva reviewed Severus's list of potential potions professors that Mordred had provided. Severus had been extremely thorough, including a brief summary of candidates' work histories, their ages, and – if applicable – Hogwarts Houses. She had been surprised to see two Beaubatons and one Durmstrang graduate on the list. She had been even more surprised to see that, while Slytherins certainly made up the majority of the candidates, representatives from each of the other Houses were included. She had taught most of the Hogwarts graduates, and could think of no immediate objections to the names she recognized. Many of them she remembered fondly. _Severus should be commended for his diligence,_ she thought.

 _A pity it didn't matter._

Dumbledore had impressed upon Minerva the importance – the great, not remotely defined importance – of bringing Horace Slughorn back to Hogwarts. "It is absolutely essential," he had said. "And no one could fault you for bringing back such a well-respected instructor to the school."

That much, at least, Minerva believed. Slughorn had connections with everyone who was anyone, and no one in power would criticize her for hiring him. As to why his reappointment mattered, Dumbledore would not say.

Slughorn was most definitely _not_ on Severus's list. If Minerva had considered candidates on her own, she might, possibly, have thought to ask Slughorn, but only for his recommendations, not to apply himself.

"I thought that _I_ was supposed to be acting as headmistress now? That you were going to withdraw your influence at Hogwarts to focus on the war?" Minerva had asked with a touch of asperity.

"Of course, my dear, of course. It is entirely your decision," Dumbledore had replied. "But Horace _does_ have some information that I feel he would be more willing to share in a relaxed, social setting."

"So have dinner with him," Minerva had replied tartly. _Now that I'm looking for them, Albus's manipulations are far more apparent than I had thought._

"Alas, I fear that my previous attempts to retrieve the information failed rather disastrously. However, I believe that Harry would be able to succeed where I failed."

No amount of argument had been able to persuade him. _Why is he putting this on a fifteen-year-old boy? Harry is just a child, an extraordinary child to be sure, but a child nonetheless._

 _But if it truly_ is _essential for the war effort . . . . Can I afford to take that risk? Slughorn was, at least, a decent instructor._

And so Minerva found herself knocking on the door to Slughorn's house.

"Minerva!" Slughorn opened the door, looking absolutely flabbergasted to see her. "To what do I owe this great, and very unexpected, pleasure?"

"Hello, Horace," she replied. "Might I come in?"

"Of course, of course! Where are my manners? Please, come in. I was about to make myself a cup of tea. Care to join me?"

"Yes, thank you."

Slughorn led Minerva inside. His house was, as Minerva had expected, exceedingly comfortable. She glanced around, noting the many photographs of smiling former pupils. Slughorn gestured to a comfortable-looking armchair, and Minerva sat. He bustled out of the room and returned a moment later with a laden tea tray.

"So, Interim Headmistress now? My congratulations, Minerva. I must say, I do hope that the appointment is permanent," Slughorn said amiably, pouring the tea.

"Thank you, Horace. It is, in fact, related to my appointment that I have come. I'm sure you must have heard about Severus winning the Paracelsus?"

Slughorn chuckled. "But of course! It was _quite_ the shock, I must tell you. He's so very young. Brilliant, of course, but even so! I would never have expected it from him, of all my students . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Minerva fought to contain a frown. She vaguely recalled that Slughorn had had very little patience for Severus as a student. He cultivated the talented, the popular, and the well-connected. Being only talented, Severus had not warranted a place in the so-called Slug Club. "A credit to your teaching, of course," she said diplomatically. "It's a great honor for Hogwarts, naturally, having a Paracelsus recipient on staff. Unfortunately, it also leads to my current predicament. As I was going over the books, I realized that Severus is not only teaching potions and heading Slytherin House, but is also the school brewer."

Slughorn choked on his tea. "What?" he spluttered. "How does he ever find the time?"

"Exactly," Minerva said. "Albus has been overworking the man for years. I cannot, in good conscience, allow this to continue." This, at least, was true. Minerva had been appalled once she realized the extent of her colleague's workload. She had always assumed that Slughorn had refused to brew as well as teach due to his inherent laziness. _And won't that be pleasant to deal with again should he accept the post?_ It was only after speaking with Madame Pomfrey that she understood that being the school brewer meant more than producing a handful of potions for the Infirmary every now and then, but was instead a full-time job in and of itself.

"No, certainly not!" Slughorn replied, chins wobbling as he nodded vigorously.

"After much discussion, we believe it best for Severus to continue brewing for Hogwarts. This will allow him to continue his research projects more easily, without having to deal with the interruptions of class schedules. He will, of course, remain as Head of Slytherin House. But now I find myself in need of a new potions professor with only a few weeks before term starts. And so I've come to you, Horace. Will you please consider returning to Hogwarts?"

"No, no, absolutely not," Slughorn replied, chuckling. "I am enjoying my quiet retirement far too much, thank you."

"Please, Horace, if only for the one year? Things are precarious enough with Albus leaving. We need a seasoned hand," Minerva said. "I know you, Horace. Don't you miss mentoring students?"

"Well . . ." Slughorn rubbed his mustache. He looked beadily at her. "Harry Potter is still a student there, isn't he? Bad business about him in the _Prophet_ , bad business. And the Diggory boy dying . . . ."

Minerva frowned. "Indeed, Mister Diggory's death was a terrible loss. As for Mister Potter, you know how the _Prophet_ is, Horace. My only consolation is that, when this all blows over – and you know that it will – Mister Potter will know whom he can trust based on those who stood by him in the face of the lies." _Stand by him now, Horace, and you'll have a new gem for your Slug Club._

Slughorn paled. "Then, you believe that _he_ is truly back?"

"I know Mister Potter, and do not believe he is lying." She sighed. "Hogwarts is safe, Horace. And we really do need you." _Or so Albus insists. Perhaps it's not too late to meet with one of Severus's choices. There were some half-bloods and muggleborns on the list . . . ._

Slughorn paused, chewing his lip. Finally, he said, "Fine, I accept! But I'll want a larger office, and _not_ one in the dungeons!" He paused. "And a pay raise."

Minerva nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Thank you, Horace."

A/N: Please review!


	44. Chapter 44

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 44**

 **"** **Opsensss,"** Severus hissed. He glared at the light on the top of the small box in front of him. It was still red. He tried again. **"** **Ospesnsss."** No change.

 _"_ _Maybe take a break?"_ Hellspawn suggested. Severus snarled. _"_ _Or not. After all, the three hundredth time is bound to work."_

"I did not expect to be able to master parseltongue immediately. Learning to replicate these few phrases might prove invaluable."

 _"_ _Sleep might also prove invaluable. Or dinner. Either way, I'm a strong supporter of resting."_

Severus ignored the phoenix. **"Ssssopsensss,"** he hissed. The light remained stubbornly red.

 _"_ _Maybe it's broken?"_ Hellspawn suggested. _"_ _Or Gellert made a mistake with the runes?"_

Severus snorted. "I highly doubt it. The runic array to recognize matching sounds is ridiculously simplistic. I could have done it easily enough, and I do not have even a fraction of his skill at runes."

 _"_ _He has been out of practice for a bit, though,"_ Hellspawn noted. _"_ _And you're really not making much progress here. Maybe try again after you take a nap?"_

 **"** **Oppesssnsss."**

 _"_ _Or work on something else then. You obviously aren't going to be opening that box tonight."_

"Persistence is a virtue."

 _"_ _Hufflepuff."_

The Sorting Hat had offered him Hufflepuff. Severus had resolved at eleven years old never to admit that to anyone. Even then, he knew that the Slytherins would look down on him for it, and that everyone else would assume he had rejected good in favor of evil. Now, of course, he privately relished the irony of the great traitor – since, no matter who won, he would be a traitor – having nearly been a member of the House of the loyal. "I liked you better when I thought you were a manifestation of my subconscious. And I loathed you then. **Opesssssn.** "

 _"_ _This is boring!"_ Hellspawn complained.

"I apologize if my attempts to replicate a foreign language are proving insufficiently entertaining," Severus drawled. "By all means, do leave me alone and visit Gellert instead."

Hellspawn huffed. _"Fine. Call me if you need me."_ Severus waved a hand in irritation, and the phoenix vanished in a flash of flame.

 _Finally_ , Severus thought, _peace at last_. **"** **Epsensss. Osssspensss."** He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

-DVDVDV-

The summons came when he was sleeping. Severus hastily dressed and apparated to the Dark Lord. This time, he was not in the large ballroom, but instead sat in his study. No one else was present. Severus knelt.

"My Lord," he murmured.

"Rise, Severussss," Voldemort said. Severus stood. "My loyal Death Eaterssss are recovering well from their stay in Azkaban. Your potionsss have helped them to regain their strength. They will soon be able to rejoin our rankssss."

"I rejoice to hear it, my Lord."

Voldemort laughed his high, cold laugh. "Of course you do. You, like they, are a true and faithful servant. That is why I shall return thissss to you." Voldemort opened one of the drawers of his desk and removed a beautiful ebony stirring rod enlaced with ivory. Severus felt his eyes widen involuntarily. _My Rod of Paracelsus. He is returning it to me?_ Severus had expected never to see it again. Voldemort held it out, and Severus reverently took it.

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus said, truly meaning it.

"Remember, my own, Lord Voldemort rewardssss his faithful followerssss." Severus nodded, absently running his long fingers across the stirring rod. It felt slightly different than he remembered. He could still sense the protection spells around it, but it had a faint aura of power that he did not recall feeling before. _The Dark Lord may have removed and the replaced the spells on it_ , he thought. _Or modified them somehow?_ He pushed the thought aside. It was probably nothing important, just a powerful wizard investigating a marvelous tool.

"You will produce all further healing potionssss for the former prisonersss using the Rod of Paracelsusss," Voldemort instructed.

"Yes, my lord." That would be little hardship. For all that he had no desire to see the likes of the Lestranges recovered, Severus welcomed the excuse to use the Rod in his brewing.

"And now, Severussss, how faresss the Order of the Phoenix?"

"There have been relatively few meetings since my last summons, master. They are, for the moment, primarily concerned with controlling the repercussions of Dumbledore's fall from grace. Furthermore, they are concerned by the prospect of an alliance between yourself and Grindelwald. They believe it likely that you were responsible for his escape from Nurmengard," Severus replied.

Voldemort hissed something in parseltongue. "So, they do not know who it wassss, either," he said softly in English, as if to himself. Louder, he asked, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, my Lord." Severus paused a moment, considering his words. "Minerva McGonagall, in her capacity as acting headmistress of Hogwarts, has expressed . . . concerns about me continuing to handle the school brewing and teaching, as these are traditionally handled by two different members of staff. She instructed me to select one or the other. I chose to remain as brewer, as I felt it would allow me greater flexibility to serve you and continue my research projects. I shall also retain my position as the Head of Slytherin House. However, if I have misjudged, I accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate." Severus knelt again, hoping that this show of respectful subservience would minimize the Dark Lord's displeasure.

"You should have consulted me first," Voldemort hissed, eyes flashing with anger. " _Crucio!_ " As his nerves burned from the torture spell, Severus momentarily reflected that he was glad he had already been kneeling, as the fall to the floor would have only exacerbated the effects of the curse. He then focused the rest of his thoughts on occluding to control the pain. He clenched his jaw to avoid a scream. After interminably long seconds, Voldemort released the spell. "Do not presume to judge my desiresss for me again, Severussss."

"No, master," Severus replied, breaths ragged.

"Fortunately, you did indeed choose correctly. For that, your punishment was only mild. But should you overstep your place again . . . ." Voldemort's voice trailed off menacingly.

"I understand, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord."

-DVDVDV-

Severus apparated home to Spinner's End, limbs still twitching from the residual effects of the _cruciatus_. He hastily drank some Cruciatus Relief, but the tremors barely eased.

 _Too many_ crucios _in too short a time._ He hoped that he would be summoned less as the school year resumed, but, given that he would no longer be teaching, he could not be certain. _Even so, I would prefer a few extra_ crucios _over even one more term of instructing those miserable brats._

Physical pain barely mattered to him anymore. It still was an agony each and every time, but he could hide himself in his occlumency shields to cut off the worst of it. _But the pain of keeping the Longbottoms of the world from destroying half the school . . . that is, at last, someone else's problem._

The tremors _were_ taking a very long time to subside, though. _My next priority should be improving Cruciatus Relief. Or possibly creating a more efficacious alternative._ At this rate, he had a year, perhaps two, before the nerve damage became permanent. It had not concerned him unduly before, but now that his lifespan, such as it was, had been extended . . . . Severus reached into his pocket again, and extracted a small vial of phoenix tears. He touched the rune on the bottom, and the stopper vanished. He carefully lifted it to his lips and swallowed a single drop.

The tremors eased, but still did not cease entirely.

 _I have developed a resistance to phoenix tears_ , he realized. _I will need to reevaluate my projections. I might have less time left than I supposed._

A/N:

As I've seen several reviews asking about pairings, I'd like to reiterate that this is not a romance. Please don't get your hopes up for a particular pairing! Yes, some characters will end up together. Other characters will ride off into the sunset alone, while others get very unhappy endings (from their point of view, at least). No, I'm not going to spoil which category Severus (or anyone else) falls into.

Please review!


	45. Chapter 45

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 45**

In a flash of flame, Hellspawn appeared in the storage crate. Gellert looked up from the runic array he was modifying and smiled. **"** **Hello, my friend,"** he said in German.

 _"_ _Hello. Severus was being very boring, so I came here."_

 **"** **Flattered, I'm sure."**

 _"_ _Exactly! You managed not to be boring even when you were stuck in a very plain cell for decades. All Severus is doing is hissing at a box that doesn't do anything,"_ Hellspawn whined.

 **"** **My condolences. I take it his attempts at mimicking parseltongue are proving fruitless thus far?** **He has had no luck?"**

 _"_ _Luck is for Gryffindors and other fools, apparently."_

Gellert chuckled. **"That bad?"**

 _"_ _Five hours."_ Gellert winced. _"But what are you working on?"_

 **"** **Ah, this is the base runic array for a prophecy orb in the British Department of Mysteries. It will still require some modifications, of course, but the underlying foundation is nearly complete.** **Severus will need to add some of the charms, and I can then enchant them to become permanent.** **Perhaps we will also need Albus's input, although from the memories I have seen, I believe that transfiguration will not be necessary should we have the proper materials to start with.** **A few more hours' work, and then I am going to have to consult with that ghastly ex-auror before I can move to the next phase."**

 _"_ _I'll come with you."_

 **"** **I thought you disliked the Order's headquarters?"** Gellert asked, puzzled.

Hellspawn ruffled his feathers in the approximation of a shrug. _"I'm bored!"_

-DVDVDV-

The pink-haired woman – _Tonks_ , Gellert remembered, _a metamorphmagus and an auror_ – opened the door at his knock. He bowed. "Auror Tonks, a pleasure to see you again," he said, smiling charmingly.

"Wotcha, evil former dark lord," she said lightly, a slight quirk to her lips. She tilted her head slightly at Hellspawn, who was perched on his shoulder. "I thought that the phoenix was Mordred's?" she asked, moving aside so he could come in.

"Hellspawn has bonded with Mordred, yes," Gellert agreed, smiling at the woman's good humor. "But apparently Mordred is being frightfully dull right now, and Hellspawn asked to accompany me instead."

"Huh. So what's boring to a phoenix?"

 _"_ _Hissing over and over and over again at a small box,"_ Hellspawn complained. _"For hours."_

"Persistence in the face of potentially insurmountable obstacles," Gellert replied. "Also, learning foreign languages."

Tonks chuckled. "Good to know. Oof!" she cried, tripping over a table made from what looked to Gellert like a troll leg.

The curtains at the end of the hall blasted open, revealing the portrait of a hideous old woman. "Scum! Blood traitors, mudbloods! Filth defiling the house of my fathers!"

Two identical redheaded teenagers apparated in front of the portrait, trying to close the curtains, but without success.

"Oy!" cried one of the twins. "Shut it, you."

"I think the lady doth protest too much, Fred," the other shouted over the woman's continued screams.

"You know, I think you might be right, George. Who could resist anyone as lovable as us?"

Black ran down the stairs, pointing his wand at the portrait. A blast emerged from it, but only ruffled the curtains. "Damn it!" he shouted. "Will you shut up, you old hag?"

"Shame of my flesh!" the portrait ranted.

"If I may?" Gellert asked, pitching his voice to be heard.

Black turned, scowling as he saw who it was. "Oh, it's you." He threw his hands in the air. "Get rid of this harridan, and I'll forget anything bad I've ever thought about you."

Gellert smiled. "A pleasure." He calmly walked over to the portrait, who was still screaming. With his new wand, he drew thirteen fiery runes in the air. He then turned his wand sharply to one side, and the floating runes rotated once in a circle before vanishing. Gellert pocketed his wand again, and then reached out to the portrait, which had gone silent as soon as the last rune had appeared. Her mouth continued to open, but no sounds could be heard.

"You can't –" began one of the twins. _Fred_ , Gellert thought.

"There's a permanent sticking charm on it," finished the other.

"No, there _was_ a permanent sticking charm on it," Gellert corrected. He removed the painting from the wall and handed it to Black, who took it, wide-eyed.

"Brilliant!" Fred Weasley exclaimed. His twin nodded vigorously.

"Thank you," Black said stiffly.

Gellert smiled and gave a slight half-bow.

"Evil dark lord –" George Weasley began.

"Scourge of Europe –" Fred Weasley continued.

"But that's nothing –"

"Compared to vanquishing –"

"Sirius's mum's portrait!"

"Thanks," Tonks said, joining them at the end of the hall. "That thing was a nightmare."

"Imagine growing up with her," Black muttered.

 _"_ _Destroy the last vestige of family members, win admiration and appreciation from all!"_ Hellspawn noted.

 **"** **Marvel at the morality of the light,"** Gellert replied drily in German. From the expressions of the others in the room, none of them spoke the language. _Good to know._ Switching back to English, he said, "Excellent! Now that this is settled, is Auror Moody available? I would like to consult with him about one of the projects we discussed in my previous visit."

"He's not here right now," Black said.

"Should be back in an hour or so," Tonks added.

"Ah, a pity then. I also have a missive from Mordred to present to Mister Potter. Perhaps I could deliver that and then, with your permission, wait in the library for his return?"

"Give it to me," Black said. "I can take it to him."

Gellert merely raised an eyebrow. "Is he not in the house? I would prefer to deliver it to him directly."

Black jutted his chin out stubbornly. "I'm his godfather."

Gellert nodded. "I was not aware that in Britain one had to go through a young man's godfather in order to present a letter."

"Come on, Sirius," Tonks said. "You heard Mad-Eye. He made the Unbreakable Vow. He won't be hurting Harry."

"And he did help with your mum," Fred Weasley pointed out.

Black scowled. "Even so, I have a responsibility –"

"Let's make sure this note goes to the right place, okay?" Tonks said, voice a bit harsher now. "No need to risk _forgetting_ about it."

"Fine," Black huffed, sounding sulky. "Come on. He's upstairs helping Molly clean."

Still holding his mother's portrait, he led the small group upstairs. "Harry," he called. Potter came out of a room down the hall, a can of doxycide in one hand and a large bag in the other.

"Hey, Sirius," he said warily. "What's –" He broke off as he saw Gellert.

"Mister Potter," Gellert said, smiling. "As promised, Mordred compiled a list of suggestions, based on the reports he has received from Master Snape over the years. I added a few ideas of my own as well." He handed an envelope to Potter, who took it, examining the wax seal with some interest.

Gellert was glad the effort had not been wasted, as it allowed him a minor victory over Severus. For all that the man had a flair for the dramatic in his personal demeanor, he cared little for the minor accoutrements that came with being a leader. Gellert, however, was an expert in these things, and had argued passionately for the need for the little details in order to sell the part. Eventually, Severus had agreed. Irritated, he had presented his faux coat of arms for Gellert's review. Gellert had burst into laughter as soon as he had seen it.

A cloak and dagger, crossed, over a flame.

A/N: Please review!


	46. Chapter 46

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 46**

Once his hands had finally ceased their trembling, Severus reverently removed the Rod of Paracelsus from his pocket. He felt a wave of contentment as he turned it slowly, admiring it from different angles. He smiled a small, crooked smile. The Rod was his again.

Holding it securely in one hand, he made his way down to the basement. Severus set the Rod neatly on his workstation, and then gathered the various ingredients required for the Azkaban escapees' next round of healing potions. He carefully and methodically began to chop and dice, crush and mince. As he worked, he would occasionally glance at the Rod, as if to convince himself that it truly had been returned to him, that he had not imagined it.

He heated the cauldrons around him and began adding the prepared ingredients. With a small sigh of contentment, Severus lifted the Rod of Paracelsus, reveling in the feel of it. The Guild's work was superb. The handle was perfectly molded to his hand. Inserting it into the ready potion, he stirred twice clockwise before adding the fluxweed. He then stirred in a figure-eight pattern. The potion turned scarlet.

Severus frowned. The Strengthening Solution should be turning light pink at this stage. He mentally reviewed his steps, but could see no mistake. _Perhaps the Rod amplifies the brew?_ He shook his head. He would finish the potion and then test it before giving it to anyone.

In the end, all three potions he was working on came out different from what he had expected. The Strengthening Solution was bright orange and nearly solid, rather than opalescent and fluid. The Intestine Intensifier and Muscle Mixture were no better.

Severus waved his wand and silently conjured a rat. Holding it in one hand, he fed it a tiny drop of the Strengthening Solution. In a healthy animal, this dose should cause only a slight, temporary increase in its physical capabilities.

The rat bit his hand to the bone. Cursing, he dropped the creature, which raced across the floor, faster than it should have been able to, even accounting for the dose of Strengthening Solution. _Can't let it escape._ Clutching his bleeding hand, Severus sent a stunner at the rat, but missed. With another curse, he aimed again, and this time he hit it. The rat fell over.

Severus was dripping blood over his workstation. This risked ruining his ingredients. If he bled on one of the potions, he could cause an explosion. _Or something worse. Merlin only knows what went wrong here._

Severus carefully cleaned the wound and then ran a diagnostic over it. _Good, no contaminants._ He muttered a healing spell, and the wound closed. He put on his dragonhide gloves, which he had not expected to need with that day's brewing, and carefully walked over to the rat.

The rat opened its eyes.

They were glowing bright red.

" _Avada kedavra_!" Severus quickly killed the creature. _Something is very wrong. I need to dissect it._

Severus cleaned up the mess on his workstation and cleaned his knives. Selecting the smallest, he began to cut open the rat.

Everything looked normal.

Severus considered what to do. He could not give these potions to the escaped Death Eaters. If their powers were somehow magnified, as the rat's had been, then he would be giving the Dark Lord too great a weapon. _That could risk the entire war._ Alternatively, if the potions killed the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord would blame him. _But what went wrong?_

He knew that there was nothing wrong with his brewing. As he always did, he had checked the cauldrons and his ingredients before he began work. There was nothing that could have caused this.

Removing his gloves, Severus cleaned up the area of the small autopsy. He absently took the Rod of Paracelsus and placed it back in his pocket, smiling slightly at the feel of it.

He frowned. Something was not right.

 _What was different when I brewed today?_ Severus asked himself. _Nothing._

No, that was not true. Something _was_ different. _Why can't I think of it?_ Severus narrowed his eyes, concentrating. There was something just beyond his perception. _Perhaps with fewer distractions?_ He tightened his occlumency shields.

And then he noticed it. There was something very subtly brushing against his mind. He visualized it as glowing scarlet tendrils, like the eyes of the dead rat.

 _Like the eyes of the Dark Lord._

In his mind, Severus carefully followed the tendrils to their source. They were coming from his pocket. _The Rod of Paracelsus_ , he suddenly realized. He remembered the change in the aura of the Rod. _Why had I forgotten?_ He frowned, and then carefully put his dragonhide gloves back on and removed the Rod. Placing it back on his workstation, he took out his wand and ran a standard diagnostic spell. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just basic preservation spells.

 _Perhaps I had imagined it?_ No, that thought was _not_ right. Severus closed his shields even more tightly around himself, struggling to prevent the tendrils from influencing his mind. He cast another diagnostic and focused carefully. This time, he saw it. There was a very powerful, very carefully concealed compulsion charm on the Rod, trying to steer his thoughts from questioning any oddities about it.

The Dark Mark on his left arm flared. It was not the burn of a summons, or even of the Dark Lord's displeasure. Severus looked down, and saw that it was feeding into and simultaneously being fed by pulsing scarlet tendrils of power coming from the Rod on his workstation.

Staggering slightly from the strength required, he cast the most powerful diagnostic charm he knew.

There was something _sentient_ in the Rod. It was calling out to him, soft and infinitely subtle, like a siren's song. Severus could not discern what it was trying to do, beyond molding him somehow, making him less – or possibly more – than he was. Blocked by his occlumency shields, it was now assaulting him through his Dark Mark.

 _"_ _Severus,"_ it called to him. It sounded like Hellspawn, and yet different in a way he could not identify but simply _knew_. _"_ _We are meant to be together. All great men have their great implement. King Arthur had Excalibur. Ravenclaw had her Diadem. Dumbledore has the Elder Wand. You have me. Let us be great together."_

Severus fought against the lure the words presented. The voice continued, _"_ _You saw what we wrought with a simple Strengthening Solution. Imagine how much stronger Prince's Kiss could be. You could cure yourself. Give yourself the full, happy life you deserve. Cruciatus Relief? You would never suffer the curse's effects again. Perhaps you could even restore the Longbottoms. Imagine how everyone would revere you."_

Severus closed his eyes. It was so tempting to agree.

He reached inside for the phoenix fire of his rage. _I made a promise to my dead._ As he pulled on the flames, he could feel Hellspawn lend him strength. Severus set the scarlet tendrils alight. The voice of the Rod screamed, and then fell silent.

Severus could still feel the aura surrounding the Rod, could still feel the pressure around his shields, and knew that he had merely contained the problem, not solved it.

 _"_ _Expecto patronum,_ " he cast, breathing heavily, and a silver doe appeared. He smiled sadly. _I've missed you, Lily. Everything is so empty without you._ "Go to Gellert. Ensure that he is alone or with only Hellspawn. Ask him to enchant a mid-sized box to contain something dangerous. I must not be able to open the box once the item has been deposited."

The doe bowed her head in acknowledgment, and then disappeared.

-DVDVDV-

In a hidden townhouse on the other side of the country, a phoenix several months from his next burning day suddenly went up in flames.

A/N: Please review!


	47. Chapter 47

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 47**

 **"** **Hellspawn?"** Gellert asked in German, glancing at the phoenix – now a chick rather than an adult in his prime – perched on his shoulder. **"What has happened?"**

There was a long pause, and Gellert was afraid that the phoenix was unable to respond. Across from him in the library, Moody said something, but Gellert dismissed the man's words as irrelevant. He glared quellingly at Moody, and was gratified to see that even now he could still command sufficient authority to silence the scarred ex-auror. Gellert turned his attention back to Hellspawn, who was now twitching slightly, sending small clouds of ash into the air.

 _"_ _Cold. So cold,"_ Hellspawn said. His voice sounded weak.

Gellert gently set the chick from his shoulder to the ground. He withdrew his wand, and Moody started, immediately drawing his as well. Gellert ignored the former auror, and swiftly cast a silent _incendio_ around the shivering phoenix chick. He concentrated, ensuring that flames would not spread beyond Hellspawn.

"Drop you wand!" Moody shouted.

"Hellspawn is suffering!" Gellert snapped. "If you cannot assist, leave."

Moody hesitated, but did not cast anything. He continued to point his wand in Gellert's direction.

 **"** **Hellspawn, what can I do?"** Gellert asked.

 _"_ _More . . . fire. Hotter."_ Gellert intensified the power behind his _incendio._ A long minute later, the phoenix shopped shivering. _"_ _Thank you. I believe I will recover now."_

 **"** **What happened?"**

 _"_ _Severus has finally found a way to kill me."_ Gellert was relieved to hear the traces of the phoenix's normal humor returning to his mental voice. _"_ _He drew upon our bond, drew so much power from it. He is . . . he is in trouble, I think. I need to go to him."_

 **"** **No!"** Gellert said, concerned. **"Not alone."** But it was already too late. With a small flash of flame, Hellspawn had vanished.

"So," Moody said, wand still trained on Gellert, "care to explain what just happened?"

"Put your wand away, fool," Gellert snapped. "You bound my Vow and therefore are aware of my intentions. Even if you had not been witness to it, you should know that you could not hope to defeat me in a duel. You are not Albus."

Moody slowly lowered his wand but did not sheathe it. Gellert simply looked at him pointedly, raising a single eyebrow in mocking question. _Do not play power games with me. I ruled most of Europe. I destroyed whole families because one member refused to kneel._ After a few more seconds of silence, Moody placed his wand back in its holster. Gellert forced himself to smile slightly at the man, but knew that it did not reach his eyes.

"Thank you. It appears that you are capable of behaving like a civilized human being after all. To answer your question, I do not know what transpired. Hellspawn himself does not know. I am going to visit Mordred. You may keep the runic array for now. Please have your comments on the magical signature ready for me when I return." Without waiting for a response, Gellert turned his back on Moody and made his way out of the house. He ignored the man's shout at him to wait. Although one of his objectives was to charm the Order of the Phoenix, concern for Hellspawn and Severus overrode his minimal patience for the former auror's paranoia.

A silver doe suddenly appeared in front of him as he walked briskly through the empty entry hall of Grimmauld Place.

"You need to enchant a mid-sized box to hold a dangerous item. I must not be able to open the box once the object has been deposited." The doe spoke in Severus's rich baritone. Message delivered, the patronus disappeared. Gellert quickened his pace. As soon as he reached the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, he disapparated back to the storage crate.

-DVDVDV-

An hour later, Gellert had finished his work. He had found a lead box containing some niffler shavings near the small workstation. Removing the shavings, he carefully cleaned the box and then carved intricate runes on every available surface. That complete, he faced the problem of delivering the finished product to Severus. He had not yet visited the house at Spinner's End, and thus could not apparate there. _Not that I even know if Severus is at home. He could well have encountered the presumably cursed object somewhere else._

"Hellspawn!" he called. He waited a moment, but the phoenix did not appear. Gellert had not truly expected him to, as phoenixes typically only responded to a summons from their bonded witch or wizard. Gellert then concentrated on an old memory of playing wizard's chess with Albus. " _Expecto patronum!_ " he cried. A silver nine-tailed kitsune appeared. **"** **Go to Severus. Tell him I have the box, but do not know where to deliver it."** The kitsune nodded and vanished.

Hellspawn appeared a few seconds later. He was still a chick, but appeared much healthier than he had at Grimmauld Place. _"_ _I can take it to him."_

 **"** **What has happened?"**

 _"_ _A cursed object. He will contain it, and then return here."_ Hellspawn jumped onto the box, and then vanished in a flash of flame.

Gellert waited. About ten minutes passed before an exhausted-looking Severus apparated into the storage crate, Hellspawn perched on his shoulder.

"Sit," Gellert commanded. "And then tell me what has transpired."

Severus nearly collapsed into the chair by the workstation. "The Rod of Paracelsus," he rasped. "The Dark Lord returned it to me. He wished for me to use it in brewing healing potions for the Death Eaters still recovering from Azkaban. However, the Rod altered the properties of the potions. I have not had a chance to study exactly what it did yet, but my initial experiment with a Strengthening Solution resulted in a rat that easily bit my hand to the bone. It also had increased speed and glowing red eyes – not the usual red one sometimes sees in rats.

"I eventually discovered a compulsion placed on the Rod, designed to prevent me from suspecting anything untoward about it. Moreover, if I continued to keep it about my person, I believe that it would have influenced me further. Ultimately, it would have magnified those aspects of my personality most similar to the Dark Lord's while minimizing my other traits." Severus laughed bitterly. "He sought to turn me from Smeagol into Gollum." At Gellert's confused expression, he added, "A reference to muggle literature. Smeagol discovered a cursed ring, and his continued association with it turned him into a monster called Gollum."

Severus closed his eyes, but continued, "My occlumency shields could block its effects, but not remove them entirely due to some connection between the magic placed on the Rod and the Dark Mark on my arm. It continued to pull at me, only ceasing when I drew upon my bond with Hellspawn."

 _"_ _That's what weakened me,"_ Hellspawn added. _"Substantial power was required to break its hold."_

Gellert suddenly had a terrible suspicion. "Severus," he began slowly, "did the Rod appear intelligent? Did it communicate with you at all?"

Severus opened his eyes and turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Indeed. Yes to both questions. Do you know what it might have been?"

Gellert paled. "I sincerely hope that I am mistaken, but I if I am correct, you are more fortunate than you know to have escaped relatively unscathed." He paused, and then continued, "Are you familiar with the term 'horcrux?'"

A/N: Please review!


	48. Chapter 48

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 48**

 _"_ _That's what weakened me,"_ Hellspawn said. _"Substantial power was required simply to break its hold."_ Severus suppressed a shudder. He had viewed the bond as a necessary evil required for his vengeance. He had never expected to feel as grateful to the phoenix as he did now. If he were honest with himself, he knew that he might not have been able to free himself from the Rod's pull without Hellspawn's strength added to his own.

"Severus," Gellert began slowly, sounding ill, "did the Rod appear intelligent? Did it communicate with you at all?"

Severus raised his head and turned to Gellert, raising an eyebrow. "Indeed. Yes to both questions. Do you know what it might have been?"

Gellert paled. "I sincerely hope that I am mistaken, but I if I am correct, you are more fortunate than you know to have escaped relatively unscathed" He paused momentarily. "Are you familiar with the term 'horcrux?'"

Severus shook his head. "No, I am not."

"It is an abomination!" Gellert spat, his accent growing stronger in his agitation. "A mockery of all that is right with magic. Even at my worst, I would never have so much as even _considered_ creating one. A horcrux is an artifact used to house half of a wizard's soul. The wizard must first murder another, and then use the force of the death to split his soul asunder, placing the detached portion in the prepared vessel. While the horcrux remains intact, the wizard cannot truly die. But it a vile mutilation! The wizard's power remains intact, but his sanity is made fragile as the partial soul remaining screams out for its severed half." He began to pace the small confines of the room.

Severus felt his already pale face blanch even further. _This would explain how the Dark Lord had survived the death of his body. It would account for his gradual loss of sanity as well. He was not always as unhinged, as needlessly violent, as he is now._ "The diary," he said softly.

"I beg your pardon?" Gellert asked, pausing in his pacing.

"A little over two years ago, Potter destroyed a cursed diary that the Dark Lord had used to possess Miss Weasley. Given your information, I assume, now, that it was the horcrux that Riddle created to survive his initial defeat fourteen years ago."

Gellert nodded. "And if he learned that his horcrux had been destroyed, he might have opted to create a second, although I have never heard of such a thing being possible. I do not even know how that would work. Would the soul in the diary have returned to the original host once its vessel was destroyed? Or is it lost forever? Would Riddle now have one-half, one-third, or one-quarter of his original soul in his physical body?"

While Severus recognized this as an interesting intellectual problem, he had other concerns at the moment. "Is a horcrux able to communicate with its creator? I assume that the Dark Lord does not already know that I have rejected the horcrux's offer, as he has not summoned me, but if I destroy the Rod, will he learn of my treachery?"

Gellert frowned. "I am not certain. I have never encountered such a thing before, and the texts that mention them do not specify such particulars. Would Riddle have been informed of the diary's destruction by some outside party?"

"Possibly. I do not know to what extent the story of Potter's escapades have spread. Lucius certainly knew of it, but I doubt he would have volunteered that information to the Dark Lord. The diary was entrusted into his care." _And why would the Dark Lord give such an important artifact to one of his followers, rather than secure it himself? And having that fail the first time, why would he give his replacement horcrux to a second follower? Then again, he apparently cannot learn from his mistakes. According to Lucius, the Dark Lord tried – and failed – to cast the killing curse on Potter at the end of last term. Given the circumstances of his initial defeat, surely a_ different _fatal spell would have been more advisable._

Gellert nodded. "In that case, barring any other evidence, I would assume that he would be notified of its destruction. It might therefore be wise to wait until we are in a position to slay Riddle, lest he create a third such monstrosity."

Severus stood and began to pace. _Would the Dark Lord have known the effects of using the corrupted Rod of Paracelsus in my brewing? If questioned, I might be able to convince him that the Rod's exceptional magical potency forced me to compensate with the brewing process, lest the results overwhelm the constitutions of the recovering prisoners. If he asks to see it, though . . . perhaps he will accept that I did not wish to risk it should I become injured? Will he expect my behavior to change drastically? Miss Weasley became withdrawn while possessed, but would her symptoms match mine? The horcrux seemed designed to mold me to become more like the Dark Lord._ Severus shuddered. _Is his megalomania so extreme that he must twist me even more into his mirror?_

 _I will act unaffected for now. If the Dark Lord becomes suspicious, I will slowly begin showing 'symptoms.'_

"We need to obtain a basilisk fang," Severus said. "Or possibly only its venom. Unless you know of another means of destroying a horcrux?" He felt a pang of regret at the thought of losing the Rod of Paracelsus again, but quashed it. He had resigned himself to surrendering it to the Dark Lord once. This sacrifice would, at least, be more meaningful.

Gellert shook his head. "I am no expert on these foul things. If a basilisk fang destroyed one, then it seems prudent to employ the same means again."

"I can likely procure some venom, and possibly an entire fang, although it will be difficult. As a potions master, I am cleared to purchase certain restricted substances. I will simply need to find a suitable excuse for requiring these ingredients." Severus paused. "Should we inform Dumbledore?"

Gellert hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes, I think that we must."

A/N:

The Rod of Paracelsus will replace Nagini as a horcrux. From what Dumbledore says in HBP, Voldemort probably made Nagini into a horcrux at some point between the end of GoF and Arthur Weasley's attack in OotP (he got the idea of using Nagini after he used her to kill a muggle in GoF, but I doubt he would have made a new horcrux before being restored to his body).

Voldemort likes to use items of great wizarding significance for his horcruxes, and the Rod of Paracelsus would qualify. Since in this fic he got his hands on the Rod before making Nagini a horcrux, he decided to use it rather than the snake.

All other horcruxes will remain as in canon.

Please review!


	49. Chapter 49

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 49**

Harry sat on his bed, re-reading the letter that Grindelwald had delivered a few hours ago. It was written in a neat, even script that Harry associated with a dictaquill. He wished the contents were as clear. Unfortunately, Hermione was no longer at Grimmauld Place, since he would have liked her opinion on it. But Krum had responded to her letter almost immediately, and he had sent an international portkey taking her and her parents to his family's home in Bulgaria. Harry had received a brief – for Hermione – letter since then, letting him know that they had arrived safely.

 _"_ _I have already described the repercussions of your attempted defense of the Philosopher's Stone in your first year. I will only add that preying upon Mister Hagrid's weaknesses violated the friendship you claim to feel for him. A true friend does not break the trust of another. You endangered his employment at the school. Given his expulsion from Hogwarts and his half-giant heritage, he would have been unlikely to find other meaningful work in the wizarding world. His stature would prevent him seeking muggle employment, as it could threaten the International Statute of Secrecy."_

Harry had not considered how his wheedling of information from Hagrid could have affected his friend. _But hadn't Hagrid himself said that he should have been sacked for telling Quirrell how to get past Fluffy?_ Dumbledore had refused to dismiss him, of course, but even so, Harry could have cost him his job.

 _"_ _Furthermore, you should never have accepted your position on the Gryffindor quidditch team without first insisting on allowing other students to audition. The second year students at the time would have been forbidden to seek a slot on the team in their first year, and Mister Wood did not hold any tryouts after Professor McGonagall informed him of your abilities. Although you are, admittedly, an exceptional quidditch player and would certainly have merited a positon due to your natural talents, there is a distinct perceptual difference between proving yourself the most worthy choice and having it simply handed to you. I suspect that several members of your House felt cheated by your arbitrary appointment, even if they were reluctant to voice their annoyance aloud due to your quasi-mythical status._

 _"_ _In addition, you accepted an expensive racing broomstick paid for by the school. No other quidditch player from any of the four Houses received such a boon. My understanding is that you are personally wealthy. Why must the Weasley twins ask their parents for outdated, secondhand models so that they can have a place on the team, while you, the wealthy Potter heir, have a new broom gifted to you using school funds?_

 _"_ _The largesse presented to you demonstrated that Headmaster Dumbledore would bestow vast sums on his favorite Gryffindor, but would not offer the same to the seekers for the other three Houses. Is it fair for the Gryffindor seeker alone to have the advantage of a superior racing broom? Is Gryffindor House so much more worthy than Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin? Will the other three Houses be as willing to join you against Tom Riddle, given the preferential treatment you receive?"_

Harry felt guilty every time he re-read these paragraphs. Had he quashed someone else's quidditch dreams? Someone else would normally have played seeker when Harry was a first year, even if he would only have replaced them a year later. And without tryouts, they'd had no reserve. When he was unconscious in the Hospital Wing after facing Quirrell, Gryffindor had been forced to forfeit.

And why should he have been given a new broomstick when the Weasleys had to pay for theirs? They didn't have nearly as much money as he did. He remembered all of the times he had seen Dudley get presents while he received nothing. He remembered the burning jealousy he had felt then. He could imagine the other three seekers feeling the exact same thing when he had received a top-of-the-line racing broom from the school, while they received nothing.

 _"_ _In your second year, you violated the International Statute of Secrecy by flying a car to Hogwarts. This law is a necessity, Mister Potter. While some muggles, like Miss Granger's parents, are accepting of magic, many fear what they do not understand. This is simply human nature. There are far more muggles in the world than there are wizards. While an adult wizard can easily defend himself against an adult muggle, he might not be able to stop a dozen or a hundred angry muggles. Can a wizard child defend himself? Accidental magic can only go so far. I have seen the graves of muggleborn children who died before they could receive their Hogwarts letters, killed by terrified muggles. You risked the safety of all of us with your flight. Sending an owl to the school would have been wiser, as would waiting for the adult Weasleys to return for their car._

 _"_ _Your token punishment of a few detentions merely demonstrated to the student body that, again, you were above the rules. Any other student would have faced expulsion and criminal charges. While preferential treatment might seem to help you in the short term, it ultimately fosters hatred and jealousy among your peers. This is, admittedly, more the fault of the school administration than it is directly yours."_

Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry knew that not all muggles liked magic. But he had not really connected the Statute of Secrecy with saving lives before. He thought it was more of an inconvenience, like the law preventing underage magic. But if some muggleborn children actually died . . . . Well, the Dursleys suddenly seemed a lot less awful.

 _"_ _When you heard the basilisk speak to you from within the walls of Hogwarts, why did you not inform a professor? That information might have allowed the staff to identify the monster more swiftly. Many of the professors believed the creature to be a medusa or a cockatrice, but the parseltongue connection would have allowed them to identify it as a basilisk. It would then have been a simple matter of conjuring roosters and carrying them throughout the school. The crowing of the rooster is fatal to the basilisk, and the threat might have been dealt with far more swiftly._

 _"_ _While none were permanently injured by the creature, the muggleborn students who were attacked missed weeks – and in some cases, months – of classes. They had to begin their next year far behind their classmates. Even if they studied arduously during the summer holiday, they would not have been able to practice casting spells. Your reluctance to communicate vital information affected their schooling, and will doubtless contribute to the stereotype that muggleborns are less talented than purebloods. Imagine, Mister Potter, if you had missed over half of your first year of classes, as Mister Creevey did, would you be as talented as your classmates at the beginning of your second year? Would you have ever been able to catch up to the level of your peers?_

 _"_ _In a similar vein, you should have presented the diary of Tom Riddle to Headmaster Dumbledore the moment you learned that it was related to the Chamber of Secrets. Had Riddle not been the Heir, Headmaster Dumbledore would have been far more capable of investigating the mystery using the information the diary provided and his own considerable magical power. As it stands, he would have immediately recognized the name and identified the object as being cursed. Miss Weasley's possession would have ended sooner, and fewer muggleborn students would have been attacked. Mister Hagrid would not have had to endure a stay in Azkaban for a crime that he did not commit. Dementors can cause lasting mental and physical damage. It is possible that your friend will never fully recover due to your desire to investigate on your own, rather than consulting the authorities._

 _"_ _And why did you ask Professor Lockhart to accompany you to the Chamber of Secrets? Surely, by that point in the school year, you would have had some sense of his lack of abilities? Had you instead spoken with Professor McGonagall, she could easily have conjured a rooster to slay the basilisk without the need for any combat. Conjuring a bird is a standard Transfiguration spell often tested on the NEWT exams, and would have posed little difficulty for a witch of her caliber."_

Harry had not even considered telling a professor about the diary. He had decided not to tell Headmaster Dumbledore about the voice he'd been hearing, and now that seemed like a very foolish, very selfish thing to have done. And why _had_ he brought Lockhart? He had known the man was useless.

And if dementors could cause lasting mental and physical damage, what did that mean for Sirius? Harry wasn't sure how he felt about his godfather, not after what he heard had been done to Snape. _Was that because of his time in Azkaban?_ Harry thought back to the Shrieking Shack, and Sirius's "prank" on Snape. If he were truly honest with himself, it did seem more like a murder attempt. _And wouldn't Professor Lupin have been punished, too?_ Harry wondered.

And poor Colin. Had anyone volunteered to help him catch up? Harry had not even considered offering. Had anyone in Hufflepuff helped Justin? Penelope Clearwater was petrified near the end of the year, just like Hermione was, so maybe it wouldn't have been so hard for her. Harry hoped not, at least.

 _"_ _In your third year, you risked your life needlessly by visiting Hogsmeade without permission. Based on the information available at the time, you would have believed Mister Black to be an insane mass murderer seeking your demise. Despite this, you carried a map on your person that shows your exact location. Did your parents die for you so that you could risk your safety for chocolates and butterbeer? Did you not consider presenting the map to Headmaster Dumbledore? He could have used it to locate Mister Black. While you now know that he is innocent, you did not at the time. Furthermore, the headmaster might have noticed Mister Pettigrew's name appear, and thus been able to prove your godfather's innocence._

 _"_ _In your fourth year, you had an opportunity to speak with a_ Daily Prophet _reporter who was, at least initially, prepared to present you sympathetically. Why did you not inform her that your godfather, the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, had been imprisoned without a trial? If you feared her disbelief, why not present your petition as a desire to hear the truth from the man's own mouth? You could have requested veritaserum. Mister Black might then have had a chance to prove his innocence, and thus would not be confined, as he currently is, to his mother's house."_

So many chances to have helped Sirius, all wasted.

 _"_ _In addition, should you truly have held no wish to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, why did you not simply appear at the tasks and make a mere token effort to compete? You would have received zero marks, but that would have allowed Mister Diggory to remain as the true Hogwarts champion and reinforced your claim not to have entered. Hufflepuff House often allies itself with Gryffindor, but you significantly alienated them last year. They are known for being hardworking and loyal. You cannot afford to lose potential loyal, hard-working allies in your fight again Tom Riddle."_

Harry wondered if Cedric would still be alive if he had only showed up at the Tasks without actually trying to win. He gripped the letter tightly, fighting back tears.

 _"_ _When Miss Granger was being targeted for her supposed role in a sordid love triangle with you and Mister Krum, why did you do not rise to her defense? A loud announcement in the Great Hall explaining that Miss Granger was not, and never had been, your paramour would have done a great deal to diminish the hostility directed towards her. If the word spread, she might have received fewer howlers, and it would have helped to discredit Miss Skeeter before her later article questioning your sanity appeared._

 _"_ _Furthermore, why do you not take your studies more seriously? Aside from Defense Against the Dark Arts, for which your instruction has been woefully uneven, your marks are, at best, only slightly above average. Perhaps that is due to a lack of talent, but the observations of my agents suggest that laziness is a more likely factor. Perhaps you do not see how transfiguring a button into a beetle or brewing a Pepper Up potion can help against Mister Riddle. If this is the case, then you are a fool._ Wingardium leviosa _saved you from a mountain troll. A_ lumos _can blind an opponent. A spell to peel vegetables can be used just as easily to peel the flesh from one's foes. Learn to transfigure buttons into beetles, and watch as your enemies' clothes fall off. Brew Pepper Up, and ensure that the common cold does not sap your health at a crucial juncture. All spells apply to defense. Learn as much as you can. You never know what might save your life."_

There was more to the letter, much more, but Harry had stopped reading. As with the first time he read the letter, he felt furious at the implication that he had been lazy. _It isn't my fault that I keep getting attacked every year! Not everyone can be Hermione._ Even so, he felt guilty seeing how many things he had done wrong. He felt so angry. He wished that Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall or _someone_ had told him. _How can I do better if I don't know?_ No one told him _anything_. They kept trying to protect him, but he had already faced Voldemort so many times. _Why didn't they understand that he_ needed _to know?_ He scowled. _At least Mordred isn't treating me like a useless child_. _I probably_ should _try harder in classes. Hermione already warned me that she wouldn't be able to help as much this year._

The doorbell rang. Harry instinctively waited for Sirius's mother to start shouting, but then remembered that Grindelwald had silenced and removed the portrait. Carefully putting the letter in his pocket, he ran downstairs, hoping to glean some information about what was going on before he was inevitably sent back upstairs.

A/N:

Please review!


	50. Chapter 50

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 50**

With Hellspawn perched on his shoulder, Severus, again disguised as Mordred, stood next to Gellert as he rang the doorbell to Grimmauld Place. Given the magnitude of the news they were preparing to deliver, he and Gellert had decided it would be prudent for both to attend. He had wanted to leave Hellspawn behind, but the phoenix had insisted that he would recover more swiftly if he remained with Severus.

Tonks opened the door. "Wotcha!" she said brightly. She frowned as she noticed Hellspawn. "Wasn't he an adult earlier? Didn't look like a burning day, either."

"It has been a very trying day, Auror Tonks," Severus replied. "If we might come in?"

"Oh! Of course," Tonks said, stepping aside.

Severus noted the absence of the portrait at the end of the hall. "Where is Mrs. Black?" he asked.

"I removed her portrait earlier," Gellert replied. "She was proving a distraction."

Severus frowned slightly but said nothing. Walburgna Black had always treated him fairly well, despite his poverty and inferior blood status. Her portrait might have been foul-tempered and loud, but he would be as well if he had to live with Sirius Black.

As they walked, Tonks turned to them and asked, "Oh, before I forget, I meant to pick your brains on something."

"Oh?" Gellert asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. I was thinking, your lot did a bang up job with that polyjuice impersonation of Dumbledore, right? Not that I'm in favor of framing him like that," she added hastily, as if suddenly realizing what she had said. "But couldn't you also polyjuice as You-Know-Who? Go to some public place, make a spectacle, and then leave? Make the Ministry acknowledge that he's back?"

Gellert glanced at Severus, chuckling slightly. "I like how this young lady thinks," he said. Tonks brightened slightly at the praise. Turning back to her, he said, "Unfortunately, that will not work, Auror Tonks. I fear that Riddle has taken precautions against polyjuiced impostors."

"Oh." Tonks visibly deflated.

"It was a good thought," Gellert said. "The sort of thought we will need to win this war."

Tonks looked a bit more cheerful. "Ah, well. Worth a shot," she said. "How'd he block polyjuice, anyway? Didn't know that was possible."

"His serpentine appearance is not simply for the aesthetic effect, Auror Tonks," Severus replied.

Gellert nodded. "As I told Mordred previously, I suspect he used the Veselin ritual combined with a modified Animus Bestiarum. That would make certain snake elements permanent, and it would negatively affect any polyjuice attempts."

Severus was suddenly struck by an idea. "Auror Tonks, could you, as a metamorphmagus, sufficiently alter your appearance to imitate Riddle?" he asked.

Tonks' eyes widened. "I'm not sure. Maybe? I've never tried anything that radical before. Well, I did try turning my hair into bird feathers once – long story – but that didn't work. But this shouldn't be that extreme, right?"

Gellert shrugged. "I am afraid that I have no idea whatsoever. Perhaps some experimentation would be in order? If you prove successful, then we can begin to implement this plan of yours."

Tonks nodded thoughtfully. "Sure." She paused. "Although You-Know-Who's a lot stronger than I am. I mean, you could pull off the power required for a showy deception. Me, I'm a talented witch and a good auror, but I'm not in that class, you know?"

Severus smiled drily. "That will not be an issue, Auror Tonks. We can provide some incantations that appear suitably impressive and obscure yet require minimal power."

Tonks nodded again, and they continued walking again. Floorboards creaked from above. Severus glanced up, and saw Potter hurrying to the stairs, peering at them. Severus looked at the brat, raising an eyebrow. Potter grinned back. _Impudent brat._

"Is Albus here?" Gellert asked.

"He's in the kitchen," Tonks said. "A few of the others are there, too."

"Excellent," Gellert said. "We have some essential information for his attention."

"Essential, huh?" Tonks asked. "I hope it's good news for once?"

Gellert shrugged. Severus replied, "It depends on your point of view. It should ultimately assist in our defeat of Tom Riddle, but is otherwise no cause to celebrate."

Potter came down the stairs. "What did you learn?" he asked.

 _Idiot boy_ , Severus thought _. Did he learn nothing from his previous foolishness? He is a headstrong child without any mental shields. Telling him anything of value would be tantamount to suicide._

"Sorry, Harry, but you know you're not allowed in Order meetings," Tonks said.

"But I need to know! Voldemort keeps coming after me! He's targeting me, so why shouldn't I be informed?" Potter demanded angrily.

"Mister Potter," Severus snapped, fighting his fury at the boy's insolence. _This day has been miserable enough already. Why must I deal with Potter after everything else?_ "You are hardly the only person being targeted by Riddle. Not all information can be shared with all parties."

Potter glared at him. "They haven't fought him as often I have, though!" he shouted.

Severus seethed at the boy's arrogance. _Did he learn nothing from my letter? What was the point of writing that blasted thing if he refuses to learn from it? How am I to protect him if he keeps insisting on involving himself in dangerous situations better handled by other, more capable parties?_

"Indeed?" Gellert asked drily, glancing quickly to Severus. Severus understood the unspoken warning. _Calm down. The half-blood prince is calm and reasonable. Do not snap at small children, no matter the provocation._ Severus gave a minute nod, and concentrated on calming occlumency exercises. "Have you even been tortured by Riddle, Mister Potter?" Gellert continued.

"What?" Potter spluttered. "Yeah, he _crucioed_ me in June. Why?"

"So you have been tortured by him only once, is that correct?" Gellert continued. Tonks choked, and then incredulously mouthed "only?" at Severus, but otherwise remained silent. "Severus Snape has been tortured – how often was it, Mordred?"

Severus scowled. _It is no business of theirs._ "Too often," he said quellingly.

Gellert rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Mordred. I was hoping for a more specific figure, actually."

 _There had better be a good reason for this._ Forcing himself to answer calmly, as if this did not concern him directly, Severus said, "Not counting the lesser curses inflicted on him, he has been _crucioed_ eleven times since the end of term in June."

Tonks gasped, and even Potter's mulish expression lessened in surprise. "Eleven _crucios_ in less than two months. This is the price Master Snape paid to learn of the impending attack on your friend Miss Granger, of the assault on Azkaban. Would you care to argue that you have fought Riddle more times than he?"

"But – but Voldemort keeps trying to kill me," Potter protested, although the fight seemed to have gone out of him. Then he seemed to rally, "And I keep stopping him. I have a right to know what's going on!"

"Mister Potter, we are at war," Gellert said. "In war, the side that informs all their soldiers of all plans is the side that loses. Imagine, Mister Potter, that Auror Tonks is given a mission to disguise herself and infiltrate a potential Death Eater meeting. Should Mister Lupin be informed? Both are members of the Order of Phoenix, so their allegiance should be clear. Surely there is no risk? However, what if Mister Lupin were captured and tortured, or else interrogated under veritaserum? Even a loyal ally might reveal Auror Tonks' assignment under those circumstances, jeopardizing her mission and her life. It is for this reason that not every person can be informed of every piece of information."

Potter still looked mutinous. "But –"

"And are you proficient in occlumency, Mister Potter?" Gellert interrupted.

Potter shook his head, looking confused. "Occlu- what?"

"Occlumency," Gellert repeated, speaking slowly and clearly. "It is the art of defending one's mind against external penetration. From my understanding, Riddle is quite proficient in legilimency, the ability to probe another's mind Occlumency is the counter to legilimency. Without occlumency, Riddle – or any other legilemens – can search your mind for information."

"He can read minds?" Potter gasped.

Tonks chuckled. "Nah, no one can read minds. More like . . . reading emotions, being able to tell if you're telling the truth. Really powerful legilimens can look through your memories, too."

"And so Mister Potter, it is time to decide. Is satisfying your curiosity worth risking the lives of your comrades?" Gellert asked.

"I -" Potter began. There seemed to be struggle going on in his mind. _Assuming he even has a mind._ "No, it's not worth it." He turned back to the stairs and began to climb. About halfway up, he paused. "Can I learn occlumency? Can you teach me?"

Severus and Gellert glanced at one another. Gellert gave a slight shrug. Severus fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps. Some can learn, but others lack the natural affinity for it." Severus privately doubted that Potter had any facility for the discipline at all, but he continued, "I suggest reviewing some texts regarding the art to begin the process of building shields. Later, Mister Dumbledore or another legilimens can test them.

"And now, I believe we have wasted enough time. Our business with Mister Dumbledore _is_ fairly important."

"Sorry," Potter mumbled. He continued back upstairs.

 _"_ _Congratulations, you_ almost _managed to get through that conversation without making it clear how much you despise children,"_ Hellspawn said. Severus sighed. _At least I won't have to teach the little menaces this year._

A/N: Please review!


	51. Chapter 51

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 51**

When the doorbell rang to Grimmauld Place, Minerva and Tonks had both offered to see who had arrived. After a quick glance between Tonks and Moody, Minerva deferred to the young auror, who barely avoided tripping as she slipped out of the room. Albus felt a pang of sadness that the tension between Tonks and Alastor Moody remained undiminished. Sirius Black sat, bored, on the other side of the kitchen, feet resting on the table. He had been brooding for days now, and had barely looked up when he heard the doorbell.

Albus and Moody continued to examine the runic array that Gellert had left behind after his abrupt departure. He wished that he had been there to see for himself what had happened, but for now, all he could do was wait for more information.

A few minutes later, Tonks led Mordred and Gellert into the kitchen. A tiny phoenix chick was perched on Mordred's shoulder. _So Alastor was right. Hellspawn apparently did burn early._ Albus also noted that the half-blood prince looked far more weary than he had the last time he had been here.

"Gellert," Albus greeted. "And Mordred. I trust that the incident that occurred earlier today has been resolved? Might we now know what happened?"

Gellert and Mordred glanced at one another briefly. Mordred shook his head so slightly that Albus almost missed it. "Not quite resolved, no," Gellert said. "That is, in part, why we are here. This is an unusually sensitive topic, requiring **delicacy and discretion**." Gellert said the last few words in German. Albus raised his eyebrows at the shift in language. He felt himself pale, recognizing the phrase from long ago discussions with his former lover. _They have learned something very serious, very dangerous. Anyone who cannot be fully trusted should leave._

"I see," Albus said simply. He glanced at the others in the room. _Sirius cannot always be discrete. Tonks, too, sometimes speaks before she thinks. Depending on what this entails, even Alastor and Minerva could be security risks._ "Sirius, Alastor, Minerva, Tonks? Perhaps it might be best if you were to give us some privacy?"

Tonks left without argument. Minerva frowned, but she rose to leave as well.

"Headmistress McGonagall should remain," Mordred said. His tone was much as Albus remembered it, cool and polite, but there was a faint note of exhaustion there now to match his appearance. _What happened?_ "Severus will be relaying his reports to her once the school term resumes, and his information factors directly into what we need to discuss with you today, Mister Dumbledore."

Albus frowned. "Very well. If everyone else would not mind?"

Moody and Sirius remained behind.

"I'm staying," Moody declared.

"It's my house," Sirius insisted.

"Sirius," Albus said sharply. "This is not the time." Scowling, Sirius stomped out of the room. Albus frowned at his behavior, not sorry to see him leave. Ever since being reprimanded after the Azkaban breakout, Black had been acting like a sulky, spoiled child. Albus turned to Moody and said, less harshly, "Alastor, will you please –"

"No, I will not. It was damned suspicious what happened earlier," Moody retorted.

Albus frowned at the obvious evidence of the Order's disarray. Some of it, he knew, could be blamed on Mordred. But he feared that the cracks had been evident before then, for all that they had grown recently.

Albus sighed and looked at Gellert and Mordred. "Auror Moody may remain," Mordred said. "If I might ward against eavesdroppers?" At his nod, Mordred removed his wand and wordlessly cast what Albus recognized as a series of seven privacy spells. His eyebrows rose at two of them, neither of which he was familiar with. _Then again, Severus is an inventor. No doubt he creates spells for Mordred as well as for Voldemort. A pity I did not take greater advantage of his talents when I had the chance._

Albus gestured for the Damned to sit. They did. "We believe," Mordred said slowly, "that we have determined the means by which Tom Riddle secured his immortality."

Minerva choked even as Moody's scarred face twisted into a grim smile. Albus, however, felt himself grow even paler. He glanced at the others in the room. "Perhaps we might be better speaking in greater privacy –" he began. _If they learn that Harry is a horcrux too early, morale will be crushed. Harry might not be able to do what is necessary, and Voldemort could win the war._

"No," Mordred said, voice flat. "I am willing to exclude Auror Moody, if you deem it necessary for security, but Headmistress McGonagall _will_ need to be informed, as Severus was directly involved in gathering this data."

"You're not getting me out of here after hearing _that_ , Albus," Moody said, chuckling.

Albus recognized a lost battle, and decided to acquiesce with good grace. "Very well. What have you learned?"

"He created a horcrux, Albus," Gellert said quietly, sounded disgusted simply by speaking the term. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw Minerva and Moody glance at one another in confusion. Albus nodded slowly. "But it seems that you already knew that, didn't you, Albus?" Gellert accused.

"I suspected," he admitted sadly. "I had hoped that I was mistaken."

Mordred's expression darkened. "I am curious, Mister Dumbledore, as to why you did not think to share that theory with us. I do believe that we had agreed to share all pertinent information with one another. Indeed, I recall having to remind you of this fact before now as well. How many other points, I wonder, have you failed to disclose?"

 _How had I overlooked this? Failing to inform the Penitent Damned of the possibility of horcruxes violates the "pertinent information" clause of the contract. Would that be sufficient justification to consider us "untrue" as allies, thereby voiding that section of Gellert's Vow? I am more a fool than I accused Sirius of being._

 _Sybill's prophecy warned that our trust in the half-blood prince would be repaid in kind. Has my folly condemned us all?_

"Just what is a horcrux?" Moody asked, annoyed.

"It is a container for part of a wizard's soul," Albus said, slightly relieved by the interruption. "Murder splits the soul, and a wizard can choose to use that damage to create a horcrux, placing the severed fraction of his soul inside the object. For so long as the horcrux remains intact, the wizard cannot die."

Minerva looked sick. Even Moody, a veteran auror with decades of experience, seemed ill at the thought.

"To return to my question," Mordred said, tone cold, "why did you not inform me of your suspicions? At our initial meeting, you claimed to have no more pertinent information to share. At our third, you stated that you would be researching how Riddle might have secured his survival. Why did you not share your theory?"

"I was not certain that this was the method Vol- Tom used," Dumbledore replied, sounding old and tired. "And I feared spreading knowledge of horcruxes to others." _I was such a fool._

"You are a fool, Albus," Gellert said, echoing his thoughts. "Your scruples nearly resulted in a disaster. They still might."

"What happened?" Albus asked. "How did you learn of Tom's horcruxes?"

Mordred and Gellert exchanged a quick glance. Hellspawn trilled.

"Excuse me," Mordred said, after a moment. "Perhaps I misheard. Mister Dumbledore, did you say 'horcruxes'? Am I correct in assuming that this is the plural form of the term?"

A/N: Please review!


	52. Chapter 52

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 52**

"Excuse me," Severus said. "Perhaps I misheard. Mister Dumbledore, did you say 'horcruxes'? Am I correct in assuming that this is the plural form of the term?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed. I fear that Tom may have created several of these. How many, I do not know. That was one of the topics I had hoped to research."

"How many do you know of?" Gellert pressed.

Dumbledore paused. "Tom Riddle's diary, which Harry destroyed a few years ago. However, given that Tom obviously wanted it used, I guessed that he had planned to create more. I have some ideas as to what others might be, but no proof."

Gellert shook his head sadly at Dumbledore. On Severus's shoulder, Hellspawn ruffled his feathers angrily. Moody and McGonagall sat, watching the conversation with expressions of mounting horror.

As Dumbledore hesitated, eyes closed as if in pain, Severus prompted, tone cold, "And these objects are? This is a crucial moment for you, Mister Dumbledore. Do not forget that your trust in the half-blood prince shall be repaid in kind. At this moment, I have seen little evidence of trust from you. Receiving intelligence from my ally should not resemble extracting sap from a kellowal tree." He felt the embers of his rage flicker with renewed life, and he channeled them towards Hellspawn. _The phoenix needs the strength more than I do._ Hellspawn's head rubbed his neck in silent thanks.

To his surprise, Severus saw self-loathing flicker momentarily in the old man's blue eyes. "My apologies. I confess that I remain unused to sharing this sort of responsibility. An old man's folly. I believe that Tom selected objects of great magical significance. I am aware of three other potential items, a locket once owned by Salazar Slytherin, a cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, and an old ring. That truly is all that I know."

Gellert's eyes narrowed at the mention of the ring. "Or suspect?" Gellert asked.

"Or suspect," Dumbledore repeated.

"You are lying," Gellert said.

 _"_ _A miser who hoards information rather than gold,"_ Hellspawn noted.

"I am not," Dumbledore replied evenly.

McGonagall's frown had deepened during this exchange. "How does Horace Slughorn factor into this, Albus?" she asked.

 _Slughorn?_ Severus wondered. _What did that pathetic excuse for a Head of House have to do with anything?_

Dumbledore sighed. "It is possible that he knows more about Tom Riddle's plans than even he knows. Horace was one of Tom's professors in school, and if Tom spoke with any of them about horcruxes, it would have been he. I suggested that Minerva bring Horace back to Hogwarts to teach potions. With luck, Harry might be able to glean whatever information he has."

 _Slughorn is going to teach potions again? So much for my list_ , Severus thought bitterly. Eyes narrowing, he asked, "And is there anything else you care to share with us, Mister Dumbledore?"

The old man shook his head, but his eyes flickered to Moody and McGonagall. "No, nothing. And now, if you would please inform us of what you have uncovered? And how?"

Severus glanced briefly at Gellert, who frowned but shook his head minutely. _Ah, so Dumbledore is still hiding something, but nothing will be gained for pressing him on it now. He is willing to tell me and Gellert, but not the others. Something that would upset his precious Order, but not us, perhaps?_

"Severus was summoned earlier today," Severus replied. "Riddle returned the Rod of Paracelsus to him, and instructed the potions master to use it in his brewing. Had we known that Riddle sought prestigious magical artifacts to contain his soul fragments, Severus _might_ have been prepared for what followed. Instead, my potions master very nearly succumbed to Riddle's possession."

Moody snorted softly. McGonagall fixed the ex-auror with a furious glare. Severus raised an eyebrow, and then said coldly, "Auror Moody, perhaps you do not appreciate the magnitude of the disaster that was only narrowly averted. Severus is a potions _master_. Had he fewer scruples, he could have easily killed every single member of the Order of the Phoenix before you even recognized that you were in danger." Moody scoffed. "I hope you appreciate the color blue, Auror Moody. Be glad that I am merely illustrating a point."

All eyes, including Moody's own, flicked over to examine the former auror. Severus smiled slightly. With their sights temporarily averted, it only took a moment to release the aerosol potion in his pocket. _Good thing I anticipated someday needing a demonstration and insisted that Gellert and I take the antidote beforehand._

A moment later, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody's skin turned bright blue. McGonagall gave a small yelp of surprise, even as Dumbledore chuckled.

"Constant vigilance, Auror Moody," Severus said calmly, watching with feigned unconcern as Moody drew his wand angrily. McGonagall, poise restored, placed a warning hand on the man's arm, and he twitched furiously before sheathing his wand again. "Severus has sufficient skill to create air-based potions. This one is harmless, merely dying the skin for about an hour. Do you doubt that he can create poisons as well? Be glad that he has not informed Tom Riddle of the extent of his abilities." In truth, creating an air-based toxin was almost impossible to do with any precision, and Severus had no intention of ever making the attempt. Even the Dark Lord had never asked him to do something so foolhardy. Poisoning the Order's food stores would be far easier, of course, a point which Severus had been careful to hide from his master.

"As I was saying," he continued, "Severus, despite his considerable occlumency shields, was nearly possessed. The horcrux displayed a level of sentience that he did not expect, and focused its assault through his Dark Mark when it could not bypass his mental defenses.

"It required the combined power of myself, Severus, and Hellspawn to break the horcrux's hold. Did you know that a phoenix can survive the killing curse? And yet the horcrux nearly killed Hellspawn. I understand that you, Auror Moody, witnessed his untimely immolation."

Dumbledore looked haunted as he stared at the phoenix chick. "I – I did not know that was possible," he said softly.

"Neither did I," Severus replied coldly. "But then, I did not know what a horcrux was until Gellert informed me an hour ago. You will note, Mister Dumbledore, that we came directly to you with this new knowledge. We deemed it worth informing our allies of our suspicions immediately. I wish the same could be said of you."

Dumbledore's face fell. He looked defeated. "I – I apologize. I thank you for placing your trust in me." He sighed softly. "Might I ask if the horcrux has been destroyed?"

"It has not," Severus replied. "Once we determined that Riddle created a horcrux, we deduced that the diary that Mister Malfoy once held had been one as well. We had surmised – incorrectly, it now seems – that Riddle created this horcrux to replace the ruined original. We do not know if destroying the vessel restores the soul to its original host, nor if the host is aware of the vessel's destruction. If either is the case, it would be foolish to do anything that affects the horcrux until we are prepared to kill Riddle himself."

There was a long silence, as Dumbledore sat, thinking. His fingers idly played with his long white beard. At last, he spoke. "I do not know if Tom would be aware of what happens to his horcruxes. But I _do_ believe that the soul fragment is lost forever. It does not rejoin the original host." He sighed. "I think that it is too risky to allow this horcrux to remain intact. It should be destroyed. If Tom knows about the diary, then he likely already knows that I am aware that he created horcruxes."

Moody nodded his agreement, but McGonagall continued to frown. "Albus," she said slowly, "surely that would condemn Severus to death?"

"Tom might not know once a horcrux is destroyed," Dumbledore replied.

"But he _might_ know," McGonagall persisted, her blue cheeks flushing slightly purple in righteous fury. "We only know about this – this horcrux because of Severus. Why not wait to destroy it until we can identify the others?" Her voice laced with disappointment, she asked, "Is his life worth so little?"

Severus fought to hide his shock. He had never expected McGonagall to defend him so forcefully to Dumbledore, especially not in front of "Mordred" and Gellert.

"My dear –" Dumbledore began.

"For the Greater Good, Albus, yes?" Gellert interrupted. "I never believed that I would agree with Aberforth."

Dumbledore paled, face turning light blue, and fell silent.

"Rest assured, Headmistress McGonagall, that Mister Dumbledore has no say in this matter. If there is _any_ chance that Riddle is aware of the fate of his horcruxes, we will wait until the crucial moment before destroying the Rod of Paracelsus," Severus stated. "Mister Dumbledore, I _trust_ that you will keep us informed should you learn or suspect anything related to horcruxes in the future?"

"I – Yes, of course." Again, Dumbledore's gaze flickered to McGonagall and Moody. Severus inclined his head slightly, and the man's eyes twinkled. Severus fought a frown. _At least he seems willing to tell us eventually. That is more than I could have hoped from the old meddler._

"Excellent," Severus said coolly. "As to the matter of Professor Slughorn, I shall request that Severus seek any potential information he might have. Mister Potter demonstrated only a few minutes ago that he has the subtlety of a rampaging nundu. Given his lack of proficiency in occlumency, that combination is potentially disastrous. He is a child, not an intelligence operative." _Or intelligent._

McGonagall's lips twitched slightly, and even Moody chuckled. Dumbledore apparently knew when to concede defeat. "Yes. Yes, that might be for the best."

"Then if there is nothing else, we shall take our leave."

"We will be in touch with you soon, Albus, to discuss the runic array," Gellert said. _And to learn whatever it is you are hiding,_ Severus thought, imagining the unspoken words. "Perhaps tomorrow at three?"

Dumbledore nodded, and they adjourned the meeting.

-DVDVDV-

That night, lying in his small bed in Spinner's End, Severus wept for the first time since Lily died. He had come so close to accepting the horcrux's offer. Even with the connection broken, a part of him yearned to take it up again, to accept its promises. Hours had passed, and yet a single thought still echoed in his mind. It felt strange, almost alien. He could not say with certainty whether the thought was the Dark Lord's, or if it were his own.

 _I do not want to die._

A/N:

Please review!


	53. Chapter 53

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 53**

Severus apparated to the Dark Lord's infirmary in the knowledge that, at best, he had fifty-fifty odds of surviving the summons. If the Dark Lord did not accept his explanation about the potions' potencies, or if he could somehow sense Severus's rejection of the horcrux, he would die.

Severus knelt on the cold stone floor of the infirmary, his face implacable behind his Death Eater mask. Voldemort stood next to Bellatrix Lestrange's bed, gazing at her sleeping form with something akin to fondness on his snake-like face.

"Rise, Severussss, and attend to your dutiesss," Voldemort hissed.

Severus stood. "Yes, my Lord." He went over to the first bed. Augustus Rookwood lay on it. Severus cast a silent diagnostic charm, and then withdrew two potions from his pocket. He silently spelled them into Rookwood's system before continuing to the next bed.

After the third patient, Voldemort spoke. "Severussss, were you satisfied with Rod of Paracelsussss?"

Severus turned to him and inclined his head respectfully. "My Lord, brewing with the Rod was beyond even my highest expectations. I am eager to work with it more intimately, as it channeled power more effectively than I could ever have hoped." Severus modulated his tone to seem as if he were trying to suppress extreme excitement.

Voldemort smiled coldly. "Show me," he commanded.

Severus knelt, raising his black eyes to meet Voldemort's crimson ones. As the legilimancy probe hit him, he showed his memory of preparing the Strengthening Solution. With the finesse of a master occlumens, he subtly shifted the memory of what had happened, presenting a Strengthening Solution that was only slightly more potent than usual, only slightly off-color. He retained the memory of his original emotions whenever he touched the Rod of Paracelsus, letting Voldemort feel his contentment. Eventually, Voldemort withdrew from his mind.

"Excellent, my own," he said. "Lord Voldemort is well pleased with you. Continue your ministrationssss."

Severus did not let his relief show. Bowing his head, in respect, he rose and returned to tending to the Azkaban escapees.

-DVDVDV-

Gellert met privately with Albus in the library of Grimmauld Place. Each man had a phoenix on one shoulder. Severus had intended to come as well, but he had been summoned shortly beforehand. Gellert waited until Albus had finished warding the room before asking, "Well, what is it that was too terrible to tell your minions?"

Albus's eyes twinkled. "Minions, Gellert? Really?"

Gellert chuckled. He _had_ missed Albus. It seemed almost a pity that he was going to leave his old friend heartbroken and betrayed. Again. "If the shoe fits, my friend." More seriously, he said, "But tell me. I can see that you begin to appreciate the delicacy of your situation. Your reticence was merely the capstone to a day that was utterly abysmal from start to finish. We nearly lost everything yesterday. Had Master Snape died or been fully possessed due to your silence, this alliance would have broken irredeemably. That is not something I want. Nor, I think, is it something that would serve you well."

Albus nodded. "I know. I have been a great fool. I was slower to trust than I should have been, and it may yet cost us dearly." He sighed, and his expression turned very grave. "This information is extremely sensitive, Gellert. If it becomes public knowledge, Vol- Tom _will_ win this war." Fawkes trilled something, and Albus nodded. "Harry Potter is one of Tom Riddle's horcruxes."

Gellert nodded slowly. That made . . . far too much sense now that he thought about it. _The "power the Dark Lord knows not." Riddle does not know that Potter is his horcrux. If Riddle learned, then he would ensure that Potter survived at all costs._ "So Potter must die," Gellert said.

Albus nodded grimly. "I can see no alternative." He looked at Gellert, unshed tears in his eyes.

Gellert understood. He shook his head. "I fear I know less about horcruxes than you, my friend."

 _"_ _You must not tell Severus this!"_ Hellspawn said, his mental voice extremely agitated.

Gellert frowned. "A moment, please," Gellert said, glancing at Albus briefly before turning to Hellspawn. "Why not?"

 _"_ _It will kill him! Harry Potter is the son of the woman he loved. He has devoted himself too much to her memory. If he learns that the last link to her must die, he will stop fighting, losing what little will to live he still retains."_

Gellert frowned but nodded. "I understand," he said. He would trust the phoenix's judgment. Hellspawn would know best about Severus's health. "Albus, thank you for informing me of this. I agree with your assessment, and understand why you did not share Potter's circumstances earlier. Nevertheless, you _should_ have warned us about the existence of horcruxes." He paused, and then added, "I understand that Potter's scar sometimes hurts when he is in Riddle's company. Is that the extent to the horcrux's effect upon him, or are there other symptoms?"

Albus sighed. "He has had, to my knowledge, two visions of Tom."

 _Well, that answers some questions about how much the horcruxes can communicate with the original host, although we still do not know exactly what transpires once a horcrux is destroyed. It certainly makes Severus's situation far more precarious._ Gellert frowned, far more concerned than before that his friend would not survive today's summons. "Albus, that rather strongly implies that horcruxes can communicate with the original host, at least to some extent. And yet you implied yesterday that such was unlikely to be the case. Are you actually _trying_ to kill Master Snape?"

 _"_ _It wouldn't surprise me,"_ Hellspawn said bitterly. _"Everyone else is."_

"No, of course not," Albus replied. "I truly believe that Harry is an exception. Placing a horcrux in a vessel that can think and feel on its own – that would account for his ability to see into Tom's mind."

Gellert snorted. "That, and you don't care for Severus much, do you?"

He watched, amused, as a flicker of jealousy appeared momentarily in Albus's eyes. "I take it you do?"

"He _did_ rescue me from Nurmengard. On Mordred's orders, but even so." Gellert shrugged. "And he cooks. I fail to see what you have against him, unless it is something so petty as his appalling bedside manner or his unfortunate personal hygiene."

 _"_ _In fairness, both of those_ do _tend to make someone fairly unpopular,"_ Hellspawn noted. Gellert could tell from the mental voice that the phoenix was trying for his usual tone, but clear traces of agitation remained evident.

Albus sighed. "He was fascinated by the dark arts as a student, and he joined the Death Eaters almost immediately upon graduation. I truly believe that he has changed his ways, but even so, I admit that his past actions may color my view of him."

Gellert snorted. "A dark wizard bent on world domination, who has since repented. Merlin, Albus, you could be describing yourself. Or me."

The words seemed to hit Albus like a physical blow. Gellert was struck again by how old Albus looked. He seemed so lost. Taking pity on him, he added, more gently, "You can still move forward, my friend.. How you acted in the past need not determine how you act in the future."

Albus smiled sadly, but nodded. "Thank you, though I doubt deserve such kindness." He paused. "Also, in the interest of full disclosure, there is something I suspect about the ring horcrux. I believe that is might be _the_ ring." As he said this, the twinkle returned to his blue eyes.

Gellert grinned, aware that his eyes were twinkling merrily in return. "Oh? I had wondered, when you mentioned it last night. If you are correct, that should be most interesting. Most interesting indeed."

 _"_ _What ring?"_ Hellspawn asked.

"The Resurrection Stone," Gellert explained, still smiling, lost in old memories.

 _"_ _Severus could bring back Lily,"_ Hellspawn said, a note of wonder entering his mental voice. _"We could save him."_

The smile fell abruptly from Gellert's face. He shook his lead. "Cadmus Peverell died to be with his lost love," he reminded the phoenix gently. He smiled sadly. "According to the stories, it does not truly bring the dead back."

 _"_ _Oh."_ A world of shattered hopes lay in that one word. The phoenix paused. _"_ _Maybe we shouldn't tell Severus this, either,"_ he said at last. For the first time in Gellert's memory, the phoenix sounded defeated.

Gellert realized that Albus was watching the exchange with some interest. "We all have our dead," he said softly. "Mordred no less than you or I." Albus nodded sadly, good humor gone.

Gellert reflected on all the secrets he must now keep from Severus. _For the Greater Good. I will keep silent, for the Greater Good._

A/N: Please review!


	54. Chapter 54

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 54**

"Well?" Severus demanded once Gellert and Hellspawn had returned. "Did he bother to tell you what he was hiding?"

Gellert nodded. He and Hellspawn had agreed upon a cover story before apparating back to the storage crate. He did not want Severus to die. If lying to his friend could prolong the man's life, then it was worth the risk of his anger should the deception be discovered. "The ring horcrux. It has my symbol upon it. Albus believes it might once have been mine, a ring that I had given to him before we parted ways all those years ago." He shook his head, smiling fondly. "Albus always was careless with his things."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And this was worth hiding from Minerva and Moody?" he scoffed.

Gellert gave an artful shrug. "It had . . . sentimental significance. I believe that poor Albus is still in denial about the others' awareness of our former relationship."

Severus snorted. To Gellert's relief, he did not pursue the matter.

"And your meeting with Riddle?" Gellert asked after a moment. "I take it from your continued survival that he does not suspect?"

"He accepted my version of events," Severus said.

 _"You are certain?"_ Hellspawn asked.

"He did not deign to torture me," Severus replied drily. "I am certain."

-DVDVDV-

After Gellert left, Albus Dumbledore reflected on their conversation. In particular, he thought about the partial exchange he had witnessed between Gellert and Hellspawn.

 _Harry being a horcrux upset Hellspawn far more than I would have expected. It dismayed Fawkes, but Hellspawn seemed panicked. Something I would never have expected to see from a phoenix._

 _Mordred regrets the death of a lost love._

Either of these alone might not have been enough to arouse Albus's suspicions. Combined, they hinted at Mordred's identity.

 _Severus._

Albus hoped he was wrong, but knew that he needed to confirm or deny his theory. He retrieved his pensieve and siphoned off memories. He dove in.

 _Severus sitting in the Great Hall, casting detection spells on his meal. Mordred at Grimmauld Place, casting the same spells. Not surprising, if Mordred trained Severus, but even so . . . ._

 _Severus at home, casually casting charms without his wand. Gellert at Grimmauld Place, implying that Mordred is an expert in charms._

 _Severus, kneeling naked before an equally unclothed Voldemort. Sybill's description of the half-blood prince, "desired by the Dark Lord."_

 _Severus, raising a mocking eyebrow in a staff meeting as Lockhart preened. Mordred, raising a mocking eyebrow at Albus's indignation over killing._

Mordred's blond eyebrows were shaped differently than Severus's black ones. The contours of his face were entirely different. Even so, the expressiveness of the gesture, the timing . . . they were identical.

Albus reminded himself that this was not proof. After all, Aberforth had commented that his and Gellert's eyes twinkled in exactly the same manner and with as little provocation. If Mordred and Severus were close, then some similarities of habit were bound to cross over.

It was still evidence, though.

 _Could Severus be the half-blood prince? He is a half-blood, but a prince?_ Albus recalled Severus as a student, clad in threadbare robes and clutching secondhand books. _No prince would be so ill-kept, surely._ Albus tried to remember what little he knew of Severus's family. _His muggle father killed his Enobarbus-stricken mother. "A dead housewife in a dead town," Severus had said while under veritaserum. Unlikely to be royalty. Unless "prince" was metaphorical?_ Albus remembered hearing about a muggle story, _The Prince and the Pauper._ He resolved to read it.

 _If Severus is Mordred, he is far better actor than I had imagined. It is one thing to lie convincingly to me or to Voldemort. It is quite another to assume a different personality while doing so. Mordred is cold and stiffly polite. A diplomat, alternating between barbs and placating. He reminds me of Barty Crouch, or perhaps Lucius Malfoy. A politician's politician. Severus is volatile, going from caged menace to deranged fury in an instant. He fights when he should talk, and goads when he should remain silent. They cannot be the same man._

Albus again saw the eyebrows raised in mockery.

 _Severus, crumpled in a grief-stricken heap after Lily Potter died. Gellert, warning Mordred's phoenix about the Resurrection Stone's history._

 _Severus, regaining purpose with his promise to protect Lily's son. Hellspawn, agitated upon learning that Harry is a horcrux._

The evidence was all circumstantial. Mordred could easily be someone else.

 _And why would Severus take on the role of Mordred?_

 _Because we hurt him_ , his conscience answered. _We hurt him, and like an injured animal, he lashed out. We would not accept him for himself, so he created a new persona to gain respect._

 _Like Tom did._

 _There were so many parallels between Tom Riddle, who became Voldemort, and Severus Snape, who – perhaps – became Mordred. "Superficial similarities," Severus had called them._

Albus thought he knew Severus. He had weathered his sulks and his rages, his shame and his scorn. Through it all, Severus was a man driven by vengeance.

Voldemort killed Lily Potter, and therefore Severus would devote himself fully to Voldemort's defeat. If Mordred was truly Severus, then few would be as committed to the war effort as he.

The Order of the Phoenix, led by Albus, had failed to trust Severus. They had interrogated him harshly. _Too harshly_ , Albus admitted. Severus responded by breaking Gellert out of Nurmengard.

 _"Their trust will be paid in kind," Sybill had warned._

 _If Mordred is Severus, then he has no cause to love either side._

And so Albus hoped that he was wrong.

 _How could Severus have a true phoenix? Could the scene we witnessed at Grimmauld Place have been him bonding to Hellspawn?_ Albus shook his head at the thought, remembering his own bonding with Fawkes. He, like Severus, had been wreathed in flames. He reminded himself that phoenixes apparated by appearing and disappearing in bursts of fire. No doubt that is what he had witnessed at Grimmauld Place _. After all, a phoenix bond is a beautiful, sacred thing, a fusion of hope and strength. Severus was so angry then, so vengeful. The entire tone of the exchange was wrong for such an event._

 _Besides, if Severus ever suffered through true remorse, surely it would have been after Lily Potter died. How could he have hidden a phoenix from me for all these years? They are rather noticeable creatures. And it makes no sense for Hellspawn to have been his boggart if they had already bonded._

Albus decided to research Severus's family tree just in case. He frowned, wishing that he still had access to the Hogwarts records. _Perhaps I can ask Tonks or Kingsley to check the genealogical archives stored at the Ministry._ He would have to be careful about it, though. He did not want to risk anyone learning that he was researching Mordred's identity.

 _Mordred has not broken the terms of our alliance,_ Albus reminded himself. _He trusted me enough to inform me of the horcrux that Severus discovered._

 _Mordred cannot be Severus, can he?_

A/N:

Since a lot of reviewers have asked why Dumbledore doesn't make the connection between Severus and Eileen Prince, keep in mind that Dumbledore was deputy headmaster of Hogwarts in the late 1930s. This means that he has seen a minimum of 55 years of students come and go, and probably much longer (since I can't imagine Dippet making a brand new staff member the deputy headmaster). He has dealt with literally thousands of students over the years. Unless he has an eidetic memory (and I'm assuming he doesn't), it is ridiculously unlikely that he would recall every single one of them.

Instead, he would most likely only remember the ones who stood out and those he interacted with regularly later. If Eileen Prince was a quiet, decent student who promptly disappeared into the muggle world, he would have no reason to remember her. Nor would he necessarily know the names of his staff members' parents, especially their long-dead parents. Can you imagine Snape name-dropping his mother in casual conversation at the staff table? Neither can I. At most, he'd grudgingly refer to her as "my mother" while revealing as little about his childhood as possible.

As a real life example, I had 8 teachers in my first year of middle school (one for each subject). At this point, I can remember the names of only 3 of them. I'd be shocked if even 1 of these 8 teachers remembers my name, since they would have had a larger impact on my life than I - a quiet, good student – did on theirs.

Even Lupin showed no recognition of the "half-blood prince" moniker when Harry asked him about it in HBP. It might have been something Severus wrote in his textbook, but for a Marauder not to know this about their favorite victim means that it wasn't common knowledge (except maybe within Slytherin). Hermione only found out about Eileen Prince after months of research in the Hogwarts library, and even then she didn't make the Snape connection until she found Eileen's wedding announcement in an old _Daily Prophet._

Sorry for the long author's note!

Please review!


	55. Chapter 55

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 55**

Minerva sat at the head of the table in the staff room, waiting for the last few staff members to arrive. Filius Flitwick and Septima Vector were debating an article from the most recent issue of the _Arithmancy Almanac_ , while Charity Burbage chatted amiably with Pomona Sprout about their respective summer holidays.

The door opened, and Severus Snape stalked into the room, scowling. A quick glance told Minerva why. Sybill Trelawney was at his heels. "A dark aura!" she cried. "It surrounds you, Severus, inching ever nearer to your heart. And once it does – no! I cannot speak of it."

"Good," Snape snapped. "Because I have no desire to hear of it." He nodded curtly at Minerva before claiming an empty chair between Irma Pince and Argus Filch. Trelawney huffed and took a seat next to Aurora Sinistra, who did not look overly pleased by the arrangement. Minerva fought to contain a smile.

A few minutes later, Poppy Pomfrey and Horace Slughorn entered. With the exception of Minerva and Snape, everyone seemed surprised to see Slughorn. There were a few murmurings and sidelong glances towards Snape, who simply raised a mocking eyebrow in response.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming," Minerva began once Pomfrey and Slughorn had settled. The discussions stilled. "Before we begin with the pre-term discussions, I would like to address any concerns any of you might have with my interim appointment. I am hoping to keep the transition as smooth as possible until the Board of Governors appoints a permanent successor to Albus, and will retain many of the existing policies that were in place. If you have any suggestions, however, do let me know."

"They couldn't choose a more worthy successor," Sprout said. "While I can't speak for everyone here, I certainly hope they pick you." There were several nods and murmurs of agreement.

"Thank you, Pomona. Moving on, I would like to welcome Professor Horace Slughorn back to Hogwarts. He has very kindly agreed to teach Potions again."

There was a smattering of applause. Flitwick beamed and said, "Welcome back, Horace!" Slughorn smiled and waved genially.

Sprout turned to Snape. "Congratulations, Severus," she said, smiling. "Defense professor at last?"

Snape snorted. "Hardly," he drawled. "Popular opinion to the contrary, I do retain _some_ level of self-preservation."

"Severus will continue as the school potions master," Minerva explained. "He will be responsible for brewing for the hospital wing." Several of the professors frowned in evident confusion. Minerva smiled tightly. "I have done some research on the matter, and it seems that the potions professor and the potions master are traditionally entirely separate responsibilities, going back to the time of Hogwarts' founding."

"I can't believe Albus had you juggle both jobs for all those years, my boy," Slughorn added, chuckling. "And yet you managed to disprove Agostini to boot! Absolutely astounding."

"It would be like having me teach Charms," Pomfrey whispered to Rolanda Hooch, who was still frowning. Her eyes widened in sudden understanding.

"Moving on," Minerva continued, "Professor Hagrid is currently on sabbatical. He should be returning in a few months. I would like to nominate Wilhemina Grubbley-Plank as a temporary substitute. Any objections?"

"Can we keep her on permanently?" Snape muttered under his breath.

There were outcries of consternation. Minerva cleared her throat, silencing them. "There is no need for that, as Hagrid will be returning shortly."

"All students across all years wasting an entire term studying flobberworms, fourth-years spending months covering 'blast-ended skrewts,' seventh-years studying carnivorous huflerpods . . . . I do believe our most recent OWL and NEWT pass rates for Care of Magical Creatures were the lowest they had been in two centuries," Severus drawled.

Flitwick nodded. "None of my sixth-year Ravenclaws elected to take the NEWT course."

"Only one of my badgers is continuing," Sprout admitted. "And only because she needs the NEWT for a krup-breeding license after she graduates."

Minerva frowned, considering. _Only two sixth-year Gryffindors are taking the class this term, and only three third-years. This is usually one of the most popular electives. And Hagrid is still in his probationary period as a faculty member. As much as I may like him personally, keeping him on might not be best for the school. Merlin knows we don't need another Binns._

 _Albus will have my head for this._

"Thank you," she said. "I shall take the matter under advisement. Once Professor Hagrid returns, I shall commence a probationary review. Agreed?" There were scattered nods from around the table. "For the next order of business, does anyone have suggestions for this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" No one spoke. Minerva sighed, not surprised. "I was afraid as much. In that case, I shall have no choice but to accept the Ministry's offer to appoint someone on our behalf." _And please let it be an auror, or at least a member of Magical Law Enforcement. Merlin only knows what a mess this will be if Fudge picks one of his toadies._

The rest of the meeting proceeded as expected, with Minerva covering the standard pre-term items that Dumbledore normally went over. It felt odd handling it herself, but fortunately her colleagues mostly seemed willing to defer to her authority.

"Thank you, everyone," Minerva said, concluding the meeting. "Severus, if you wouldn't mind staying behind a moment? I have a few items I'd like to discuss with you."

Snape inclined his head. The others filed out, some chatting good-naturedly with one another. Once they had all left, Minerva cast a few privacy spells to avoid eavesdroppers.

"Before we get started, I would just like to apologize for how the Order treated you this summer. There was absolutely no excuse for it," Minerva said formally.

Severus closed his eyes. Minerva noticed how very weary he seemed. "Thank you, Minerva. I am aware that you had no part in what transpired. You will understand, however, if I have no wish to return to the Order's clutches? I will report to you or to the Damned."

Minerva nodded. She decided to leave it there, as he clearly did not want to discuss the specifics of what happened further. _And who can blame him? He deserves at least some semblance of privacy._ "On that note, is there anything we will need to arrange for your reports?"

Snape reached into a pocket and removed a small lioness pendant attached to a fine silver chain. He handed it to her. "Wear this. I have a counterpart. When I am summoned, I will activate my copy, and yours will heat momentarily. I will meet with you to discuss supply orders for the infirmary stores when I return."

"Very well." She paused a moment, then continued, "I'm not certain if Mordred passed this along to you, but if you are interested in the deputy position . . ."

Snape sighed. "No, Minerva, I am not even remotely interested."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? I had thought your Slytherin ambition would require it," she teased.

He snorted, amused. "My Slytherin ambition will have me out of this pestilential school the moment my life becomes my own."

Minerva's heart sank. She knew that he loathed teaching, but not that he felt trapped in the school. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said.

He waved a hand dismissively. "It does not matter."

 _Yes, it does_ , Minerva thought sadly. Again, she was struck by how very tired Snape seemed. "Have you seen Poppy yet for your annual check-up?" she asked, changing the subject.

"No."

"Go. You look ghastly."

Snape snorted again. "I always look ghastly. I am the bat of the dungeons," he said, smirking slightly.

Minerva pointed at the door. "Go," she ordered. He bowed mockingly before leaving.

A/N: Please review!


	56. Chapter 56

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 56**

Before going to see Madame Pomfrey, Severus returned to the dungeons. Reaching his office, Severus paused in front of the far wall, which held rows and rows of shelves holding jars of various potions ingredients. He carefully examined the wall and the floor in front of it, checking the state of his wards. Satisfied that they were undisturbed, he spoke the first password, "Suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."

One of the shelves moved to the left to reveal an ornate wooden door behind it. Again, Severus paused to confirm that nothing had been disturbed before saying, "Sinon." There was a tiny _click_. Severus opened the door, waving a hand absently. The torches on the walls flared to life, revealing a large, cluttered sitting room. Stacks of books lay piled on the floor, with the occasional roll of parchment or quill next to them.

Expertly navigating around them, Severus stalked over to his bedroom. He removed the shrunken form of his old, battered trunk from his pocket, and placed it carefully on the floor. With a wave of his hand, the trunk returned to its normal size. He opened his trunk and began to unpack. He paused when he reached the only two new items.

After a moment's consideration, Severus placed the parseltongue box on a shelf in his sitting room. He had finally, after countless hours of practice, managed to get the blasted thing to open about half the time.

He wanted to place the container holding the horcrux on the nightstand in his bedroom.

He put it in a hidden drawer of his desk instead.

For good measure, Severus locked the drawer and vanished the key. He had found himself prone to staring longingly at the box several times since his near-possession. For all that Gellert had warded it against his opening it, he did not fully trust himself with it. Even so, he could not bring himself to surrender the horcrux to Gellert's safekeeping. And, as Gellert did not think to offer, Severus did not ask.

Severus did not know if the pull was exacerbated by the Rod of Paracelsus being _his_ , his reward for years of hard work and brilliance, an acknowledgement from the world that yes, his life had meaning, or if the lure were simpler, a chance to live unhindered by his physical and emotional deterioration.

Late at night, he had lain in bed considering means to dissolve the protections that Gellert had placed. _What a wizard can make, another can unmake._ He hated himself for it, wishing he could break its hold on him, knowing that he was tempting fate.

In the end, it did not matter. He _was_ tempted. He wanted the Rod of Paracelsus back.

 _It is fortunate, then, that I am accustomed to being denied that which I desire._

Severus returned to his bedroom. After a few more minutes, he had finished his unpacking. He sighed. _Another year at Hogwarts._

There was a flash of flame, and Hellspawn appeared.

"You should not be here," Severus said. "Now that you are visible, you even more of a liability than you were before."

 _"_ _I can stay in your bedroom,"_ Hellspawn huffed. _"_ _It's not like anyone else ever comes in here."_

He scowled. "Gellert will be doing more interesting things now that the school year has resumed."

 _"_ _And I will visit him when I get bored._

"As you please, of course," Severus replied drily.

Hellspawn flew to the sitting room and looked around. _"You know, this is even less tidy than I remembered. Maybe I'll clean while I wait for you to get back."_

"You do realize that I know how to kill you now," Severus drawled. "Move anything, and I will be delighted to demonstrate."

 _"_ _But it's so messy!"_ Hellspawn whined. _"_ _At least call a house elf."_

"I know exactly where everything is," Severus retorted. _And the Hogwarts house elves ultimately report to the headmaster or headmistress._ "In any event, I have an appointment with Madame Pomfrey. Try not to burn anything while I'm gone."

-DVDVDV-

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Pomfrey asked after reviewing the results of her diagnostic spells.

Severus shrugged, not caring. "Is it anything I am not already aware of?"

Pomfrey sighed. "No, probably not. Well, the good news is that your Enobarbas progression seems to have slowed. A new variant of your potion, I assume?" she asked, and he nodded. "Thought so. Normally, that would give you another couple of years, but then we come to the bad news. You've taken a _considerable_ amount of wear and tear since I last saw you. Do I want to know what happened?"

 _The Dark Lord happened._ "No," Severus replied.

Pomfrey hummed noncommittally. "Regardless, you need to cease doing whatever it is that's causing that damage. It's completely undone the progress you made. I want you here for monthly check-ups, not just once per term. If I don't see an improvement, I'll be sending you to St. Mungo's."

 _Damn it._ "No, you will not," Severus said firmly.

"I can and I will," Pomfrey argued. "Whatever you are doing is killing you. I cannot in good conscience allow it to continue."

"Poppy," Severus said, annoyed, "you know as well as I do that I have been living under a death sentence since I was sixteen years old. You also know what occurred at the end of last term. Either the Enobarbas will kill me, or the Dark Lord will. In either case, I will not waste what little time I have left in a hospital."

Pomfrey sighed. "You have three years, maybe four, if you don't do anything to exacerbate your condition. If this summer is your new standard, you will be dead within a year. A _year_ , Severus!" Tears glistened in her eyes.

Severus nodded. "I know."

Pomfrey sighed. "I won't send you to St. Mungo's, though Merlin knows I should. But you _will_ come and see me monthly, understand?"

"That is acceptable."

"Anything you want me to tell the headmistress?" she asked.

"Tell her nothing."

"And when you die on her watch? What do I tell Minerva then?"

"Tell her to protect my Slytherins. Remind her that one-quarter of all eleven-year-olds cannot be evil." Severus gave a small, crooked smile. "Tell her that not only Gryffindors are brave. Let her know that I did not go gentle into that good night."

A/N:

"Suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" is a line from _Hamlet_ 's "To be or not to be" soliloquy.

"Sinon" is a character from the _Aeneid_. A Greek spy in the Trojan War, he pretended to be a deserter and convinced the Trojans that the Trojan Horse was a gift to the gods.

Severus's last line is a quote from Dylan Thomas's poem "Do not go gentle into that good night."

Please review!


	57. Chapter 57

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 57**

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, staring up at the staff table. It was bizarre seeing Professor McGonagall sitting in Headmaster Dumbledore's throne-like chair, flanked on either side by Professors Snape and Sprout.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said slowly. "There's a lot of new faces, though." She nodded towards a squat toad-like woman dressed all in pink, a middle-aged woman with close-cropped gray hair and a prominent chin, and an enormously fat, bald old man with a silver walrus-like mustache. "One of them must be the new defense professor, but I'm not sure about the other two."

"I heard mum and dad saying earlier that Snape's not teaching anymore," Ron whispered excitedly.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, more loudly than she had intended. She flushed, and then said more quietly, "Why not?"

Ron shrugged, not caring. "Dunno."

"We heard –" Fred began.

"That his – er – _friend_ got him out of it," George finished. Hermione frowned, wishing that she had had more of a chance to catch up with Harry and the Weasleys about what had happened after she and her parents left for Bulgaria. Leaving had been a good decision, though, she knew. She still felt shocked and horribly betrayed by what she had learned about the Order, and she did not regret the chance to spend more time with Viktor. His family had been amazingly considerate of her parents, too, which had reassured her a great deal. Viktor had promised to try to arrange his schedule so that he could visit her during the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and she was already looking forward to seeing him again.

Before Hermione could ask for details, McGonagall stood. "Welcome, everyone, to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin tonight's feast, I would like to address some recent staff changes. First, and most obviously, Headmaster Dumbledore is no longer with us. He led this school admirably for several decades, and we will miss his steady hand. I have accepted the appointment as interim headmistress while the Board of Governors reviews candidates for his successor. On behalf of the entire staff, I promise that we will seek to keep this transition as smooth as possible. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to direct them to your Head of House.

"Second, I am delighted to announce that Professor Slughorn has agreed to return to Hogwarts in his former position as potions professor." There was a sudden loud exclamation throughout the hall, as student after student turned to one another in shock. The Slytherin table alone looked unsurprised. McGonagall raised a hand, and the hall quieted. "As many of you here may already know, Master Snape was recently presented with the Rod of Paracelsus, the single most prestigious award that can be bestowed upon a potions master, for his groundbreaking work disproving Agostini's Law.

"Historically, the potions professor and potions master of Hogwarts were two separate roles. In light of Master Snape's exceptional achievement, it seems time and past time to return to our institution's traditional division of labor. Fortunately for us, he has graciously agreed to continue as the Hogwarts potions master and as Head of Slytherin House."

There was raucous applause from the Slytherin table. Professor Snape – _no, Master Snape_ , Hermione reminded herself – raised his hand in acknowledgement. When he lowered it a moment later, the applause died down.

At the other tables, students were looking at one another in confusion. Hermione shared their surprise. She had known from _Hogwarts, a History_ that the school brewer was a separate job than potions professor, but she had not known that Snape had been fulfilling both roles. _Why would Professor Dumbledore have allowed it?_ She remembered her experience with the time turner in her third year. _Doing all that work couldn't have been healthy._ She frowned, remembering what Mordred had said back at Grimmauld Place. _But then, it seems like Dumbledore didn't care much about Snape's health, did he?_ Looking at Snape now, Hermione thought that he looked unwell. _But then, he's never exactly looked healthy. Maybe that was just because he was so busy before, and because he's spying now?_

"I am also pleased to welcome Professor Grubbly-Plank, who has agreed to teach Care of Magical Creatures while Professor Hagrid is on sabbatical." Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged worried glances. "Sabbatical" doubtless referred to the mysterious mission that Hagrid had mentioned at the end of last term. "And finally, I would like to welcome Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. She will be joining us as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year." McGonagall's lips pursed momentarily with evident distaste as she introduced the pink-clad woman. The other staff members looked equally unhappy.

Umbridge stood from her seat next to Snape and cleared her throat. _She's going to give a speech?_ Hermione thought with disbelief.

And what a speech it was. The other faculty members glared at her as she spoke. A few, like Snape, curled their lips in disgust. Even as the eyes of her fellow students glazed over, Hermione's narrowed on the toad-like woman. _She's a Ministry operative, here to interfere with Hogwarts._

-DVDVDV-

Back in his quarters, Severus crouched on the floor. He summoned a small rubber ball and prodded it for a few seconds with his wand. Satisfied, he flung his wand out from him in a smooth, violent gesture. The ball hurtled away from him, bouncing once before hitting the wall. The ball exploded, smearing sticky remnants on the stone.

 _"_ _Good start of term, then?"_ Hellspawn asked.

Severus ignored the phoenix and summoned another ball. He repeated the process with the same results. After three more exploded balls, Hellspawn said, _"_ _Is this a new decorative scheme? It's very modern."_

Severus snarled, "If you have nothing constructive to say, then be silent."

 _"_ _That bad?"_

"That Ministry hag is going to cause no end of trouble," Severus spat, summoning another ball. _I will poison her if she so much as_ thinks _of sitting next to me again._ It, too, exploded against the stone wall of the room. He cursed.

 _"_ _You don't know that for certain."_

Severus snorted. "She has not been here one day, and already she is trying to assert her dominance. Bloody madhouse of a school it may be, but I'll be damned if I sit back and _watch_ as she puts it under the thumb of idiots like Fudge." Again, he summoned a rubber ball. With another furious gesture from his wand, he flung it against the wall. When it exploded, some of rubber flew back, missing Severus and instead hitting Hellspawn. The phoenix ruffled his feathers irritably, trying and failing to remove the sticky residue.

 _"_ _A little help here?"_

Severus cast a silent _scourgify_. The rubber did not disappear. _Interesting._ He tried a handful of vanishing charms, without success. He smirked.

"Try burning it off," he suggested.

 _"_ _You always make me burn early,"_ Hellspawn whined. _"I never get to go through a proper molting cycle. If it's not an avada when you're in a snit, it's something else."_

Severus shrugged, not caring. He summoned another ball.

 _"_ _Maybe you should do something else? Parseltongue practice, maybe?"_ Hellspawn tried ruffling his feathers again to remove the sticky residue.

"I thought you considered that deleterious to my long-term mental health."

 _"_ _I've reconsidered. Salvaging your mental health is a lost cause. My new priority is stopping you from redecorating your sitting room – and me – in rubber ball guts."_

Severus snorted. "I can clean it later." He summoned another rubber ball.

 _"_ _How? You still haven't gotten this off of me."_

"I will have to clean the existing residue regardless." The ball exploded against the wall.

 _"_ _This is not how I imagined finally getting you to clean,"_ Hellspawn complained.

He ignored the phoenix and flung another summoned ball at the wall. As it exploded, he imagined that is was simpering toad wearing far too much pink. He smiled grimly, and summoned another.

A/N: Please review!


	58. Chapter 58

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 58**

"Albus thinks that Darius Nott might have one of the horcruxes. We will raid his manor at midnight tomorrow. No need for you to come; the party we discussed previously should be sufficient. Oh, and I found a potential solution for our assembly issues. I can show you when we next meet in person." The silver kitsune patronus spoke with Gellert's voice and then vanished.

 _The Order is moving more quickly than I had expected. I wonder how much pressure Gellert had to exert to get them to do something_ , Severus mused. He was mildly concerned about the Order members who would be accompanying Gellert. Tonks was competent, if clumsy, but Moody was a loose cannon at the best of times. Unfortunately, he recognized that they had little choice but to work with the paranoid ex-auror. Rounding out the group would be Bill Weasley, who had had all but begged to accompany them after hearing about the removal of Walpurga Black's portrait. _Curse-breakers and their love of runes._

It made sense to go after Nott first. He was one of the original Death Eaters, for all that he had failed to seek out the Dark Lord after his first fall. If the Dark Lord would entrust a horcrux to Lucius Malfoy and another to himself, then Nott was a more than likely candidate.

Severus thought of Theodore Nott, one of his more promising fifth-year students. He was a quiet, weedy boy who, if left to his own devices, would probably go on to a research position somewhere. _He wants to be an Unspeakable, but his father refuses to hear of it. He would prefer that the boy follow in his footsteps, for all that their temperaments are diametrically opposed._ He would no doubt force his son to become a Death Eater, if only to prove his own loyalty to the Dark Lord.

 _Young Mister Nott might be best served if his father fails to survive the raid_.

-DVDVDV-

Gellert's kitsune patronus returned just as Severus was preparing for bed the next day. "This was an unmitigated disaster. The Order is a disorganized mess. Enjoy today's headlines, but don't do anything stupid. We are taking care of it.

"Nott is dead. He did not have a horcrux in the manor, but I managed to salvage some books from what's left of his library. They might prove useful to you. When Hellspawn next comes to Spinner's End, he can get them for you." The silvery kitsune vanished.

 _Be careful what you wish for_ , Severus thought acidly. He did not look forward to informing Theodore Nott that his father had died. _And what the hell happened that would prompt me to act rashly?_

 _"_ _Oh, sure, don't even bother asking me if I'm willing,"_ Hellspawn complained.

"As if you would ever be unwilling to meddle," Severus replied absently, mind still focused on wondering what exactly happened.

 _"_ _Well, it's the principle of the thing."_

"Go to Gellert and get the books. Also, inform him that his report was utterly lacking. If he cannot be bothered to send the full details with his patronus, he should summon you so that you can relay them back to me."

Hellspawn huffed, but disappeared. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying three books.

"Well?" Severus snapped. "You were not gone nearly long enough to receive a complete report."

 _"_ _His report was exceedingly accurate. The headlines today should be very interesting."_ Severus glared. _"Nope, I refuse to spoil it for you."_

"Lovely," Severus spat. "I am delighted that you are here helping me." He checked the time. It was a little after five o'clock in the morning. He groaned. _So much for sleeping._ _Perhaps I can rest after I inform Mister Nott. Of course, first I will need to be_ officially _informed as to what happened._

Sighing, Severus took the first of the three books that Hellspawn had brought. _The Unopened Door: Love as the Greatest Mystery_. He frowned. He had read this text already. It had proven useful in the early stages of creating Prince's Kiss. He flipped through it, checking for any notes or additions. There were none. He set the second book, _Rituals of the Macabre_ , aside as well. He had perused Lucius's copy several years ago. He picked up the third volume, an ancient, leather-bound book with _Flights of Fancy: A History of Brooms and Carpets_ written in gold leaf on the spine. He sighed, remembering the Dark Lord's order that he learn how to fly. He settled himself down and began to read.

A little after six o'clock, McGonagall's tabby patronus appeared in his room. "Severus, please report to my office at once." It vanished.

 _Finally._ Severus grabbed a spare scrap of parchment and used it to mark his place in the book. "Stay here," he ordered Hellspawn, leaving his quarters for the long walk to the headmistress's office.

"Gray-eyed Athena," Severus said upon reaching the stone gargoyle. It leapt aside, and Severus climbed the moving spiral staircase that led to the headmistress's office.

The office was much as Severus remembered it. McGonagall had added only a few small touches. He noted a wizard's wireless in the back corner and a tartan scarf on a far shelf. For the most part, though, she had kept it as Dumbledore had left it, with whirling silver instruments scattered throughout the room.

Of course, now McGonagall sat in the chair behind the desk, not Dumbledore.

"Severus," she greeted, sounding tired. "I hope I did not wake you?"

"You did not."

She looked at him owlishly. "Still awake or up early?"

"The former."

She frowned. "I thought I told you to take better care of yourself," she tutted.

He shrugged. "Some potions can only be brewed at certain times. Now, unless you brought me up here to discuss my sleep schedule, what did you want?"

McGonagall handed him a roll of parchment. "The Ministry flooed me just before I called you. It seems that Mister Darius Nott died in his home early this morning. Grindelwald was implicated as being directly involved." She frowned. "Is there something I should know?"

Severus shrugged again. "You knew that raids were planned. I learned an hour ago that the visit to Nott failed badly, but was told only to _read the headlines_ ," he sneered the last few words.

McGonagall pursed her lips in a frown. "What will you tell his son?"

"The truth. His father died, and the Ministry believes that Lord Grindelwald was involved."

She sighed. "A terrible thing for a boy to hear. And not even a week into term."

Severus nodded grimly. "If there is nothing else? I would like to inform Mister Nott before he learns of it through the papers."

"No, nothing for now. He has my permission to attend the funeral, of course, but do let me know if there is anything else Hogwarts or I can do for him."

Severus inclined his head. "Thank you." _Thank you for sounding like you actually mean it. Thank you giving a damn about my Slytherins, even those with a Death Eater for a father. Merlin knows that no one else will._

-DVDVDV-

Severus sat at his desk, watching his fifth-year student clutch his mug of steaming tea.

"What – what happened, sir?" Nott asked.

"I do not know the details," Severus replied. He did not speak gently, for that might come across as pity. Instead, he kept his voice calm, allowing his student to take comfort or not, as the boy wished. "What little I know is that at some point this morning, your father died at home. Rumors claim that the former dark lord Grindelwald was involved, although I do not know to what extent that is true."

Nott nodded, face pale. "Thank you, sir." He licked his lips nervously. "Do you – do you think it _was_ Lord Grindelwald? Or was it _him_?"

 _It was Gellert._ "Your father was loyal," Severus said instead. _Make of that what you will. I pray you see how nothing came of that loyalty. Do not follow in his footsteps._

"He was." Nott scowled. "Always to _him_." He stared down at his cup, not really seeing it. "What will happen now, sir?"

"I expect that Gringotts will read your father's will. You will be excused for the reading, as well as for the funeral. Headmistress McGonagall has asked me to assure you that all accommodations will be made for you at this time. If you like, I can ask the house elves to send breakfast here for you. You need not attend any classes today."

Nott shook his head. "No, sir. I think – I think it would be best if I go to class. My education was very important to him." _Liar_ , Severus thought, hiding his amusement. _Your father could not have cared less about your academic achievements. But you always cared, and going to class will do no doubt prove a welcome distraction to whatever you are thinking._

"As you wish, Mister Nott. As you wish."

A/N: Please review!


	59. Chapter 59

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 59**

 _DARK LORD GRINDELWALD DESTROYS NOTT MANOR_

 _DARIUS NOTT DEAD; SIRIUS BLACK TAKEN INTO CUSTODY_

 _September 4, 1995_

 _London – In the early hours of the morning, a group of people led by former dark lord Gellert Grindelwald assaulted the residence of Darius Nott, 71. Aurors are still investigating why this attack occurred, but sources inside the Ministry suggest that Lord Grindelwald may have been seeking to recruit Nott to his cause. Nott evidently resisted, and was killed for his refusal._

 _When the team of aurors arrived, one wing of the manor had already collapsed after being hit with dozens of blasting hexes. Aurors found escaped mass murderer Sirius Black trapped in the rubble, with Lord Grindelwald and two other unknown parties trying to extract him. Grindelwald then attacked the aurors, rendering them unconscious after a ferocious duel._

 _Fortunately, Ministry reinforcements arrived before Grindelwald and his followers could successfully extract Black. The dark wizards fled, leaving their fallen comrade behind._

 _"_ _We would like to commend Auror Shacklebolt, head of the Sirius Black manhunt, for his team's capture of this notorious dark wizard. Although Black has been sentenced to receive the dementor's Kiss, we at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement believe it prudent to question him thoroughly about his involvement with Lord Grindelwald before executing him," Amelia Bones informed the_ Daily Prophet _._

 _Did Sirius Black, the first person ever to break out of Azkaban prison, assist Grindelwald with his escape from Nurmengard? How many other former Death Eaters have joined his cause? Will more members of our community be targeted?_

 _For more information about the former dark lord Grindelwald, see pages 2-3. For more details about the crimes and capture of Sirius Black, see page 4. For an obituary of Darius Nott, see page 7._

Severus set down the newspaper, face pale with fury. _Gellert was right. This was an unmitigated disaster._

 _What was Black even_ doing _there? Gellert was supposed to go with Tonks, Moody, and Bill Weasley._ _He_ knew _that Black was a potential security risk._ He shuddered to think what would happen if Black were interrogated.

 _Gellert said that they were "taking care of it" at least_ , Severus reminded himself. _I can only hope that they kill the idiot._

And speaking of idiots, Potter had just leapt to his feet from the Gryffindor table, a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ falling to the table in his righteous indignation. Granger grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. Severus rose from his seat at the staff table and quietly began to stalk over to them.

"We can't let them do this!" Potter hissed.

"Harry, there's nothing we can do," Granger whispered back. "I'm sure that the Order is working on getting him out."

"There has to be something!" Potter shouted. Throughout the hall, heads turned to him. _Not making a good case for your sanity, now, are you?_ Potter glared at them, and then angrily stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. "At least Nott's dead. One less Death Eater."

"Detention, Mister Potter," Severus said calmly from just behind the boy. He was gratified to see the brat jump slightly in surprise. "And twenty points from Gryffindor."

"For what?" Potter snapped. "Eating?"

"For slandering the dead. Come with me. You as well, Miss Granger. I think some training in _respect_ is in order." From the corner of his eye, Severus saw Dolores Umbridge smile a wide, toad-like smile, apparently delighted by his treatment of the boy.

Scowling, Potter rose and followed him out of the Great Hall, Granger trailing in his wake. Weasley looked as if he meant to follow them, but a glare from Severus stopped him.

Severus led them to a disused classroom and swiftly and silently cast some privacy charms. That done, he turned to Potter and hissed angrily, "Did you learn nothing over the summer, Potter? Are you _trying_ to get people killed?"

"What?" Potter cried, indignation evident in his voice.

"Discussing sensitive matters in the Great Hall, where anyone could hear you? What do you think will happen when someone reports to the Dark Lord? What will the Ministry do if they suspect that you, the deranged parseltongue-spewing, attention-seeking Boy-Who-Lived, are linked to Black, who is in turn linked to Lord Grindelwald?" Severus turned furiously to Granger. "And you, Miss Granger, what _possessed_ you to discuss the Order of the Phoenix in the Great Hall? Secret vigilante societies are _secret_ for a reason!"

Granger hung her head in shame. Potter, however, looked mutinous. "But Sirius –"

"Has been arrested, yes. No more than the filthy mutt deserves," Severus interrupted. _What the hell possessed them to bring Black along?_ "But you need not fret. Your precious godfather will be returned to you, I do not doubt."

"Really?" Hope lit the brat's eyes. Severus felt a pang of grief. _Lily's eyes._

"I would not look so delighted if I were you, Potter. Black was _not_ supposed to be present yesterday. I do not know why he was there, but his recklessness has endangered all of us."

"He was trying to help the Order!" Potter snapped. "You just hate him –"

"Potter," Severus interrupted, "this is war. Not a game. Black threatened the lives of _everyone_ in the Order. Frankly, I could not care less about most of them. But _he_ does, and still he acted like a reckless, idiotic Gryffindor. Do not emulate him now."

Potter fell silent, frowning. "What do you mean, he threatened everyone, sir?" Granger asked.

Severus sneered. "Think, girl! What will happen to Dumbledore when word spreads that he was not only Grindelwald's former lover, but that they are currently working together? What will happen to Headmistress McGonagall when the public learns that she knew? To Auror Tonks, who knew? To Auror Shacklebolt, who not only knew but has been feeding the Ministry misinformation about Black's whereabouts for months? If they are fortunate, some of them _might_ escape Azkaban."

Granger's eyes widened comically in horrified understanding. "And you, sir? You'd be sent there, too, for knowing about it, wouldn't you?"

 _No, the Dark Lord would torture me to death for not telling him what I knew. As it stands, I expect I will merely be tortured for not knowing that Black – and therefore the Order – was involved with Gellert._ "And that is why Black will miraculously escape Ministry custody," he said instead. "Another great Gryffindor _adventure._ "

A/N: Please review!


	60. Chapter 60

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 60**

Harry felt deeply ashamed as he listened to Snape. He really _hadn't_ been thinking. As soon as he read that article in _The Daily Prophet_ , his temper had erupted, blocking out all reason. He had promptly forgotten his promise to himself to think through things more carefully. _Speaking about the Order in the Great Hall, where anyone could have heard them . . . . What were we thinking?_

Hearing about Sirius's recklessness did not improve his temper, especially coming from Snape. Harry's relationship with his godfather had been very tense over the last few weeks, as Harry had difficulty reconciling the laughing, good-natured Sirius with the man who had helped torture an ally, even if that ally _was_ Snape. When he'd voiced his concerns to his friends, the Weasley twins had quietly told him about other incidents, things that Sirius had done to Snape back in school. The twins' eyes had darkened as they described "pranks" that sounded, as best, like the worst sort of bullying. _No wonder Snape hates him._

But now Sirius was captured and facing the Kiss. Harry might never have a chance to talk to him again, to get the answers and reassurances he desperately wanted from the only family he had left. And so he lashed out, and now Snape was lecturing him for it. _Bloody git._

 _Especially since he's right. The Great Hall was packed with Slytherins. I bet loads of them are working for Voldemort. And that Umbridge woman works for Fudge. How much did she hear? Mordred was right, I really don't consider the consequences enough._

Harry did not know what to think about Snape now. On the one hand, he was appalled by what the Order had apparently done to him. On the other hand, he _was_ still Snape. _Who was_ crucioed _at least eleven times this summer_ , Harry reminded himself. _Not that you can tell, not by looking at him._ Snape looked much as he always did, tall, dark, and greasy. At most, he looked somewhat more tired than Harry remembered. _Even so . . . he took me out of there before I said anything too important._

"Sorry, sir," Harry said stiffly.

Snape nodded curtly. "Keep control of your temper, Potter." He paused a moment. "And see that you do not gloat again that one of your classmates is now an orphan."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling stunned. He thought for a few seconds, and then remembered Theodore Nott, a stringy Slytherin boy with whom he had barely interacted. "Oh." He swallowed. He had never really thought about Death Eaters having families before, but of course they did. There was Draco Malfoy, wasn't there? And Crabbe and Goyle's fathers had both been in that graveyard, too. Harry knew what it was like to be an orphan, and he didn't wish that fate on anyone. _Not even Malfoy._

Snape sneered, "Indeed." He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead drew a sudden intake of breath. At the same time, pain lanced through Harry's scar, and he winced. "Keep your silence," Snape hissed, abruptly stalking out of the room, robes billowing in his wake.

Hermione looked worriedly at Harry. "Are you okay, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his scar. "But Voldemort's angry. Really, really angry."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And he just summoned Prof- Master Snape."

The unspoken thought lay between them. _Snape's just gone off to be tortured._

-DVDVDV-

Harry had difficulty concentrating in classes that day. Trelawney took her usual delight in predicting doom and gloom upon him, and the intermittent stabbing pains in his scar, combined with his worry about Sirius, caused him to snap at her angrily rather than ignore her words as he usually did. Highly offended, she took another thirty points from Gryffindor. Lavender and Parvati, who revered Trelawney, shot him disgusted looks. Seamus, whose mother believed _The Daily Prophet_ , muttered "nutter" under his breath.

At lunch in the Great Hall, Hermione had noted, concerned, that Snape was not present. _Was he still with Voldemort?_ Harry thought again about what Mordred had said. _Eleven crucios._ That had been a couple of weeks ago. _How many was it now?_

Harry had initially held high hopes for his first potions lesson without Snape, and it had started well enough. Slughorn was pleasant and jovial where Snape had been harsh and biting, and his gushing enthusiasm at Harry's presence was a welcome change for all that it left him feeling oily and uncomfortable. Admittedly, hearing Slughorn praise Malfoy almost as much hadn't helped, although Harry was pleased to see that the new professor gave Hermione the due she deserved.

Unfortunately, everything got worse from there. His scar continued to burn on and off, and he kept feeling flashes of Voldemort's fury. Even when the pain faded, all he could think about during the lesson was Snape being tortured. This made him remember how Sirius hated Snape, which in turn led to him feeling guilty about disapproving of Sirius's actions when he might be Kissed at any minute.

When his potion exploded, it was almost a relief.

It was less of a relief when Neville's exploded a moment later, coating him with the contents of both cauldrons. He remembered screaming, and then the world went mercifully black.

-DVDVDV-

"How long will he be here?" Hermione asked Madame Pomfrey. She and Ron stared down at their unconscious friend, who was currently unrecognizable. Small yellow tentacles covered his skin, and they occasionally stretched out and snagged anything in reach.

Pomfrey sighed. "At least two days. Mister Potter was hit by not one but two failed potions, and their combined effect will be all the more difficult to unravel. I'll see what I can do on my own, but Master Snape will likely need to brew a custom antidote as well."

 _Is Snape back yet?_ Hermione wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. _He might not want the other staff members to know that he was called away._ She bit her lip nervously. _And who knows what shape he'll be in once he_ does _return_ , she thought, remembering how he had looked after You-Know-Who had punished him following her rescue over the summer. That brought back another memory. "Couldn't you try a _finite supremum_?" she asked, remembering how Snape had cast that to undo the polyjuice on himself.

Pomfrey snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. If these were simply charms or transfigurations gone wrong, I might have a chance at getting rid of _one_ of the layers. Even then, it would take a lot out of me, and I'd be next to useless if something serious came up later. But a potion?" She shook her head. "There's no one in this school who can cast that spell powerfully enough to cancel a potion, _any_ potion. Headmaster Dumbledore might have been able to, but he's not here anymore. And when you factor in that it was _two_ potions . . . I'm good at my job, but no one's that good." After a pause, she added sternly, "I do _not_ want to hear that you have been practicing that spell. You'd end up on one of these beds passed out from magical exhaustion."

Hermione frowned, but nodded. _But I saw Snape cast it to cancel polyjuice._

"Now get out of my infirmary. I have a patient to treat."

They left. Ron made his way back to Gryffindor tower even as Hermione headed for the library. With her parent's restrictions still in effect, she needed to prioritize her time there, but she wanted to look up more information about the _finite supremum_ spell before she began gathering materials for her homework.

To her surprise, she found that Madame Pomfrey was right. In _Undoing the Doable: Counterpells and Cancellations_ , she read:

 _"_ _The most common general cancellation spell is, of course, the_ finite incantatum _. Although it works for most basic spells and minor jinxes, it fails at cancelling more powerful incantations. Beyond the_ finite incantatum _are a variety of similar spells, including the_ finite moderatum _, which rose to prominence in the seventeenth century. At the far end of the spectrum, however, is the_ finite supremum _, the most powerful spell of this type._

 _"_ _Despite its efficacy, the_ finite supremum _is rarely used even by capable witches and wizards due to the power required. Auror Galina Moonberry reportedly fell into a coma for two days after casting this spell on her partner to counter a series of unknown hexes placed on him. Before she collapsed, she managed to remove two of the five curses with this single spell, likely saving his life._

 _"_ _Yet what makes the_ finite supremum _unique is not simply the raw power required, but rather its unprecedented ability to cancel the effects of potions. While potions famously require no magical energy from a witch or wizard to brew, they are laden with magic from the ingredients and, more importantly, with intent. The time-consuming nature of brewing focuses the potion-maker's will, making potions notoriously more difficult to cancel than charms or transfiguration. Indeed, potions are nearly impossible to counter without the use of another potion._

 _"_ _And yet despite this, there are records of witches and wizards of lord-level power who undid the effects of potions using the_ finite supremum _. Lady Keiko, for instance, reportedly woke her brother from his potion-induced coma using this spell. Even so, the power required staggered her, sapping her strength and allowing her rival, Lord Shinjo, to kill her in battle an hour later."_

Hermione closed the book, thinking hard. She remembered how Snape had casually dismissed the polyjuice. _Could that just have been because he was the original brewer?_ _No, that would have reduced the energy required, but even taking that into account, the power expenditure should have been incredible._ He had immediately gone on to treat her parents, and therefore clearly was not magically exhausted. _Lady Keiko was weakened but still fought in a battle afterwards, so he might just have been hiding the strain._

Either way, the passage was enlightening. The book was obviously written before Snape had disproven Agostini's Law. But if the rest of this was true, it could only mean one thing.

 _Snape has lord-level power._

A/N:

I just want to remind readers that Harry in OotP _was_ an emotional teenager with a ridiculously short temper. How much of this was due to being fifteen, to seeing Cedric die, or to having Voldemort's emotions seeping through is up for debate. Regardless, it's completely unrealistic that he would suddenly experience a personality 180 just because he recognizes the problem. Recognizing that you have a problem is generally considered the first step, not the only step. Harry will try to do better, but it's not going to be as easy as flipping a switch.

Also, this fic has now exceeded 1,000 reviews! Thank you all so much! Seeing your comments always brightens my day.


	61. Chapter 61

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 61**

Harry slept poorly.

He was flying on his Firebolt, dodging bludgers, when an airplane suddenly appeared over the quidditch pitch. The snitch flew into a propeller, but Harry reached out anyway, knowing that he had to win the game.

The scene shifted.

He was sitting on a great, high-backed chair. It was elegantly carved, and comfortable for his tall frame. At his feet, a masked and hooded man dressed all in black writhed in agony, voice hoarse from screaming. His black robes were ripped into rags, bloody gashes showing clearly on sallow skin. With a slashing motion from the wand held in his pale, long-fingered hand, Harry peeled another wide strip of flesh from the man's raw and bleeding back.

Harry lowered his wand and waited. After a few seconds, the man's screams subsided, and he began breathing in great shuddering, ragged breaths. Harry reached out and removed the silver mask from the man's head, revealing a blood-soaked, sallow face dominated by an oversized hooked nose. The man was shaking uncontrollably, and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction laced with derision. The man was still _weak._ He would get stronger, though, Harry reminded himself.

Grabbing a fistful of the man's lank, greasy hair, Harry raised his victim's head so that their eyes locked.

 _A small, hook-nosed boy shrank into a corner as a man who greatly resembled him took a menacing step towards a cowering woman._

 _A gangly boy in threadbare robes hurried down an empty hall. As he walked, his shoes suddenly transformed into slime, and he tripped, spilling his books to the floor in front of him. From behind, he could hear the sound of four other boys laughing._

 _A sullen young man knelt, left arm outstretched. As a skull and serpent tattoo was branded onto it, the man's exultation outweighed his pain._

 _A tall man with lank black hair was sent away from a group of people sitting in a kitchen, knowing he would never be welcome. Harry focused on this, and felt the man's loathing and contempt for the people in the room, his desire to see them all destroyed._

Harry released his grip on the man's hair. Disappointment coursed through him, disappointment in his spy for his failure, for his incompetence. He was still such an unsatisfactory vessel.

Harry leveled his wand on his spy again. In a high, cold voice, he said, " _Crucio!_ "

And Harry awoke with a scream.

Madame Pomfrey hurried over. "You shouldn't be conscious," she tutted. "The draught I gave you should have kept you asleep for hours yet."

Harry looked down at himself. Everything was very blurry, and he realized that he was not wearing his glasses. "What – what happened?" he asked, confused. He had been in potions, he remembered, and then his cauldron had exploded. "What time is it?"

"Potions accident. And it's just before dinner," Pomfrey said. "Don't fidget, dear, you're still covered in tentacles." Harry squinted. Yes, he was indeed covered in tentacles. He shuddered. "I said, don't fidget," Pomfrey repeated. "That just excites them. Now, drink this and go back to sleep."

"Wait, how long am I going to be stuck like this?" Harry asked.

It was hard to tell without his glasses, but he thought that Pomfrey shrugged. "Another day or so, I should think. Master Snape will need to brew a custom antidote for you, I'm afraid."

"Snape!" Harry cried, remembering his dream. He tried to stand, but Pomfrey pushed him back down.

"Don't move, Mister Potter. I will petrify you if I must."

"Sorry, but it's really important! I need to see –" Harry paused, not sure whom he should tell. Last year, he had gone to Dumbledore after one of his visions, but Dumbledore was no longer at Hogwarts. "Professor McGonagall," he said at last. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, at least.

"You need to rest," Pomfrey said firmly.

"I will, but _please_. It's really important."

Pomfrey made a noncommittal _hmmm_ sound. "Very well. I shall see if she is available. Now _stay put_."

"Can I at least put my glasses on?" Harry asked. He hated how whiney he sounded. Pomfrey reached over and carefully placed his glasses on him before bustling out of the room.

About ten minutes later, McGonagall arrived. She looked tired and extremely tense. "What is it, Mister Potter?" she asked acerbically.

"It's Snape –"

"Master Snape," she interrupted crisply.

"Yes, him. Voldemort is torturing him!" Harry said frantically. Flashes of pain had shot through his scar every few minutes as he waited for her to arrive. "You have to get him out of there!" He might not like Snape, but he refused to just lie here and let him get _cruicoed_.

"Yes, I suspect so, Mister Potter." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke.

"No, he _is_ , right now! I saw it!" Harry struggled to explain. "I was dreaming, and then, it's like I _was_ Voldemort. Like I saw it happen through his eyes. You have to stop him, Professor!"

"Do you know where he is, Mister Potter?" she asked.

"I – no, I don't."

McGonagall sighed, and then gave Harry a long, considering look, as if weighing how much to tell him. "Neither do we, Mister Potter. Even Master Snape does not know exactly where he goes when he is summoned. Some facet of the Dark Mark, I believe, allowing him to apparate without knowing the exact destination. And even if we did, we have no right to interfere unless he gives us a signal. We could risk making things far worse for him if we tried. I am relieved, though, that you appreciate the risks that Master Snape goes through. What he does, he does for all the rest of us.

"Now, I believe that Madame Pomfrey wants you to rest. She told me to have you drink this. I promise you, Mister Potter, that we will be on hand once Master Snape returns."

Harry reluctantly drank the offered potion. As he drifted back to sleep, his last thought was that there had better be a very good reason for Sirius to have gone to Nott manor. Otherwise, Harry wouldn't blame Snape for seeking revenge.

A/N: Please review!


	62. Chapter 62

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 62**

Snape's chair was empty that night at dinner.

Minerva was worried. She wished she had thought to ask Snape how long a summons usually lasted. _It's been nearly eleven hours. Surely this is not normal. And if what Mister Potter said is correct, which Albus thinks is likely . . . ._

 _At least they managed to rescue Black._

Somehow, that thought was not as comforting as it should have been.

 _The reckless idiot._

Somewhere, Severus Snape was being tortured because Black had run off to play the hero.

 _Or he might be dead._

Minerva did not want to think about that, either.

"Oh, I say," Slughorn said, interrupting her thoughts. "Where is Severus? It's not good for him to miss yet another meal. That man's skin and bones as it is." Despite herself, Minerva raised an eyebrow, and Slughorn chuckled, patting his massive stomach ruefully. "Oh, I know that I am a hedonist, my dear, but really, I was absolutely shocked when I saw poor Severus at your pre-term meeting. He must have lost at least a stone since I saw him at the Canterbury Cauldron Convention three – no, four years ago. And he was far too thin even then!"

Minerva frowned, considering. _Yes,_ she decided, _Severus has gotten worse. Not just the weight loss, but he's become even paler and more drawn. It's just been so gradual that I might never have noticed without Horace pointing it out. I'll ask Poppy about it, see if I can do anything to help._ She felt a pang. _Not that it will matter if he's dead._

Sprout chuckled, "Oh, I know. We've all tried getting him to eat more. A lost cause."

"'As I am not an infant, you will kindly cease your incessant mothering.'" Vector added in a passable imitation of Snape. A few of the others chuckled, but Minerva felt herself go cold. _Do none of them see?_

Slughorn tutted. "Overwork, no doubt. I still cannot believe how much Albus had him doing. Absolutely criminal, I dare say!"

"As a Head of House, isn't he required to attend meals?" Umbridge asked with false sweetness.

"Indeed, Dolores," Minerva replied with cool politeness, "but allowances are made for exceptional circumstances. One of Severus's students has just been orphaned, and as Head of House, he is responsible for overseeing arrangements for young Mister Nott."

Minerva had looked into those arrangements while Severus was . . . otherwise occupied. She would present her findings to him when he returned. _If he returns._

"Bad business, that was," Slughorn said. "Darius was one of my students. Why, I remember –"

Minerva barely listened to the rest of the conversation. Severus was being tortured, and all she could do was sit here and do nothing.

At times like this, she did not feel like a Gryffindor.

-DVDVDV-

Hermione was patrolling the first floor corridors. It was only her second patrol since she had been made a prefect, and she was determined to fulfill her responsibilities diligently. She had already found one student out of bounds, and had sent the embarrassed Ravenclaw third-year on his way.

As she walked the empty halls, she thought of Master Snape. He was more powerful – a lot more powerful – than she had thought. More powerful than Madam Pomfrey thought, too, if she believed that only Headmaster Dumbledore could cast a _finite supremum_ powerful enough to break through a potion. Hermione wondered why no one else seemed to know. He seemed willing enough to cast it in front of her, after all.

 _Then again, how often do people see him cast anything? Just because he doesn't advertise it, doesn't mean it's necessarily a secret._

Not that she would mention it to anyone else, just in case.

Snape had not shown up at dinner. She hoped that was because he was brewing the antidote that Harry needed, but she doubted that was the reason. He –

A hacking cough came from down the hall. Hermione froze, and then hurried over. As she grew closer, she caught a metallic scent on the air. _Blood_ , she realized. She began to run forward, prepared to help whomever was hurt.

She suddenly stopped, face draining of color. A man in the black Death Eater robes of her nightmares stood in the hall.

And then he coughed. At the movement, the light shifted to reveal his face.

"Prof- Master Snape?" Hermione asked tentatively.

It was hard to be sure, given the dim light, but Hermione was fairly certain that he was covered in blood. Snape stared at her, black eyes glazed and unfocused. After a moment, her words seemed to pierce his understanding, and he gave a jerky nod. He then reached for his pocket. Hermione watched, appalled, as it took him three attempts to extract a vial from it. His entire body was wracked with tremors.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione cast a _lumos_.

Snape was _definitely_ covered in blood. He looked as if he had been bathed in it. He coughed again, and blood trickled out of his mouth. Still trembling, he raised his other hand to grip the bottom of the vial.

The bottle slipped from his fingers. Her eyes wide in horror, Hermione watched as it fell to the floor. Breathing a small sigh of relief that it did not shatter, she bent to pick it up. Rising, she unstoppered the bottle and handed it to him, noticing the small, cramped handwriting on its label, declaring the contents as phoenix tears.

He jerked his head again, but Hermione could not be sure if that was in mute acknowledgement or just another tremor. He quickly drank. His ragged breathing eased slightly, but he continued to shake uncontrollably.

 _God, how bad off is he that even phoenix tears won't completely heal him?_

"Sir," she began hesitantly, feeling as if this entire encounter were surreal, "do you want some help getting to Madam Pomfrey?"

He glared at her, or at least tried to. His eyes still seemed to have trouble focusing, and he trembled so much that he could barely stand. "No, Miss Granger," he rasped, his normally smooth tones unusually hoarse. "I shall be fine."

"You can barely stand!" she protested, and then covered her mouth with her hand. She had not meant to say that aloud.

"Twenty . . . points from Gryffindor," Snape said. "I shall be fine, Miss Granger. Go about your duties." He made a gesture with his hand as if to wave her away, but the effect was lost by his continued shaking. He slowly began walking down the hall, not to the dungeons as she had expected, but towards the stairs that would lead to Headmistress McGonagall's office.

"I could bring Madam Pomfrey to you?" Hermione offered. _Might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg._

Snape glared at her again, and this time she took an involuntary step back. As wretched as he looked, there was fire smoldering in those black eyes. "I shall be _fine_ ," he said again.

Hermione dithered for a minute, and then decided to leave him his dignity. Feeling like a coward, she turned and continued her patrol.

A/N: Please review!


	63. Chapter 63

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 63**

"Merlin, Severus," Minerva said, staring in horror at her colleague. "Sit down before you fall down." Snape nodded jerkily and practically collapsed into one of the high-backed chairs in front of her desk. "Let me call Poppy –" she began, heading towards the floo.

"No," Snape interrupted, voice raspy.

"Don't be absurd, Severus," Minerva snapped, reaching for her jar of green floo powder. "You are in no fit state at the moment."

"Gryffindors," Snape spat. "There is nothing she can do that I have not already done. I shall be _fine_."

"You are covered in blood and trembling like a first-year about to be sorted," Minerva retorted.

Snape blinked, looking momentarily confused. Minerva recognized that he was likely still in shock from whatever You-Know-Who had subjected him to. He looked down at himself as if noticing his blood-soaked robes for the first time. With shaking hands, he withdrew his wand and cast a silent _scourgify_. The blood vanished. Minerva was impressed despite herself. _That could not be easy, given his obvious fatigue and pain._ "I shall be fine," Snape said again. To Minerva, it sounded like a practiced mantra, one that Snape repeated time and time again but did not necessarily believe.

Minerva fought the impulse to argue. As much as she hated it, he was an adult and therefore within his rights to refuse treatment. She sighed, resigned for the moment. Even so, she felt more resolved than ever to speak with Pomfrey later. "Very well. Do you need anything? Potions, tea, anything?"

"Just my report. And a few hours' sleep, if possible."

Minerva reluctantly nodded. "Very well. What happened, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord was furious that Nott had been killed. He recognizes that it does not bode well that Grindelwald's first public action after his escape was to target one of the original Death Eaters. Black's involvement made the situation far worse, as it suggested that the Order was working with Grindelwald, and that I did not inform him. Fortunately, I managed to convince him that I was not a traitor, merely uninformed. My new orders are to uncover the nature of the Order's involvement with Grindelwald."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "He believed that?" she asked, incredulous.

Snape shrugged, and then winced at the movement. "Eventually. My lack of social graces is hardly a secret, and even the Dark Lord can acknowledge that there are drawbacks to having a spy without any appreciable social skills. My inability to ingratiate myself in your deepest confidences despite years of effort being one of them."

Minerva frowned at Snape's self-assessment. A few months ago, she would have sworn that Snape knew that he was inhospitable but simply did not care. Now, she wondered at how much of his acerbic personality was an act and how much was real. She had difficulty imagining that Severus would intentionally come across as incompetent at anything, but that alone would make it a more effective cover.

Of course, it also made You-Know-Who's decision to appoint him as the spy in the Order of the Phoenix seem far less sensible. As if reading her thoughts from her expression, Snape's lips quirked in a small smile. "I was the only Death Eater considered a talented enough occlumens to fool Dumbledore."

Minerva nodded. "And he tortured you for your failure?" she asked, distaste coloring her tone.

"An incentive to do better next time."

"I see. Is there anything else?"

Snape paused. Minerva could see his hands clutched tightly together in an effort to control his shaking. "Black escaped?"

"Yes," Minerva replied, voice full of contempt. "Kingsley Shacklebolt is now a fugitive, having sacrificed his career and his reputation to get Black out of Ministry hands before he could be interrogated." She paused, nostrils flaring, and then continued, "Albus is furious with him, of course, and there's talk of moving headquarters elsewhere. Apparently, Black stunned Bill Weasley and drank the polyjuice meant for him. He took his place in the raid. Rather than try to reason with Nott, he decided to duel the man. That's what resulted in all the blasting hexes that destroyed the house. The roof collapsed, killing Nott and trapping Black. The others were trying to get him out when the aurors arrived. Apparently, he thought that he was _helping._ " Snape gave a derisive snort. "Yes, I quite agree," Minerva said drily.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with one trembling hand. "I can work with that, at least. I can let the Dark Lord know that Dumbledore assigned Black to try and make contact with Grindelwald, using his connections to a notoriously dark family as a cover. Grindelwald then recruited him and brought him along on the raid as a test. Black failed, and the Order had to rescue him." He sighed wearily. "Anything else I should know?"

"Yes. Apparently, Mister Potter had a vision of your . . . situation. Through the eyes of You-Know-Who. Albus thinks that this connection could potentially be reversed, allowing You-Know-Who to see through his eyes. He strongly recommended that Mister Potter be trained in occlumency as soon as possible."

Snape swore. Minerva raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. For all his vitriol, Severus rarely cursed. "And does he have an instructor in mind?" he asked, an edge of menace creeping into his still raspy voice.

Minerva did not want to burden Snape with any other responsibilities, especially not right after his return from a day of being tortured. But she would not lie to him. Sighing, she admitted apologetically, "He suggested you, as the most talented occlumens he knows."

Snape snorted. "I doubt Potter will react well to having me invade his mind on a regular basis. Assuming he has one," he sneered.

Minerva ignored the jibe at her student's intellect. She, like the other senior members of the Order, had rudimentary shields, but the Mind Arts were not her area of expertise. And she could appreciate Snape's point. No one would appreciate learning occlumency from someone they did not fully trust. "I'll see if there are any alternatives, but we'll need someone who is already at Hogwarts if we want to avoid suspicion."

"Slughorn knows the basics. Flitwick should, too, from his time on the dueling circuit," Snape noted.

"Enough to teach?" Minerva asked. Snape merely shrugged. She sighed, and resolved to find some way to inquire without giving too much away. She paused a moment, thinking if there was anything else that he should know. "Oh, and Umbridge asked about your absence at dinner. I told her that you were overseeing arrangements for young Mister Nott. Speaking of which, I took the liberty of looking into that for you," she said, and handed Snape a small folder. He took it with a small nod of thanks. "Now go to bed, or I _will_ set Poppy on you."

Severus nodded, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Minerva watched as he slowly made his way out the door.

-DVDVDV-

To the shock of both Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger, Severus Snape appeared at breakfast the next morning, looking as if the previous day had never happened.

A/N: Please review!


	64. Chapter 64

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 64**

 _SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM MINISTRY CUSTODY_

 _CORRUPTION IN THE AUROR OFFICE?_

 _September 5, 1995_

 _London –Sirius Black escaped from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's holding cells yesterday. In a shocking development, it was none other than Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Sirius Black manhunt, who released the notorious dark wizard._

 _Shacklebolt, 43, reportedly summoned a patronus to drive off the dementor guards. He then stunned the two aurors who stood as additional security outside Black's cell. By the time reinforcements arrived, the cell was empty, and both Shacklebolt and Black had escaped._

 _Following the revelation of Shacklebolt's involvement, calls were made for the immediate resignation of Amelia Bones as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as well as a thorough investigation of the auror department for further ties to subversive groups._

 _"_ _While we cannot overlook the possibility that Auror Shacklebolt was placed under the_ imperius _curse or was otherwise coerced, we are hereby suspending him until further notice and issuing an order for his arrest," Director Bones said in a statement. "We will also be conducting a thorough internal investigation to determine exactly how this could have occurred. Furthermore, we will be revisiting all of Shacklebolt's former cases to review them for any irregularities."_

 _Could Kingsley Shacklebolt or someone else in the DMLE have assisted with Sirius Black's unprecedented escape from Azkaban two years ago? What involvement did he have in Lord Grindelwald's escape from Nurmengard? Could there be other sleeper agents buried in the auror office?_

Severus set down his copy of _The Daily Prophet_. After reporting to McGonagall last night, he had retreated to his quarters. There, he had read and promptly set aside a note from Pomfrey about a potions mishap involving Potter. _No surprise there._ It did not seem urgent, though, so he felt he could safely wait to deal with it. He had then exchanged a few very harsh words with Hellspawn before collapsing into bed for a few much-needed hours of sleep. He hoped that he had made it sufficiently clear to the phoenix that withholding important details before a summons would have a deleterious effect not only on Severus's health, but on the phoenix's as well.

At least, the phoenix had seemed mildly uncomfortable being covered in the remnants of several dozen exploded rubber balls.

Despite his exhaustion, Severus knew that he had to make an appearance this morning. While any spies of the Dark Lord would understand his absence following yesterday's treatment, Dolores Umbridge was another matter entirely. Thus, he had paid a quick visit to the hospital wing to view Potter's condition before breakfast. He left soon thereafter, satisfied that he could discuss the work necessary to enable the boy's recovery. More importantly, the sight of the brat covered in small yellow tentacles promised to keep him amused for a long time to come.

"Good morning, Master Snape," Umbridge said with false sweetness. "We missed you at lunch and dinner yesterday."

"Professor Umbridge," he replied, inclining his head slightly. "I was attending to the arrangements for Mister Nott."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Severus replied, hoping to quell further discussion. It was no business of hers what his Slytherins' living situations were.

"And those arrangements are?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "As I have not yet had an opportunity to inform Mister Nott, I would prefer not to spread the information to others at this juncture."

"Oh, I wouldn't tell anyone," she simpered. Severus's newly patched skin crawled. "In fact, I'd be happy to sit in with you as you inform your student. Surely it would be a comfort to the boy to know that his professors care about him. And that the thoughts of the Ministry are with him as well in these trying times. Why, I would be happy to help counsel the poor boy, if you should find yourself busy with your other duties."

A few seats down from them, Severus could see McGonagall and Sprout watching Umbridge with ill-disguised contempt.

And with a sudden wave of insight, Severus realized exactly why Umbridge was here. She was not simply the Ministry's spy and operative at Hogwarts, here to capitalize on Dumbledore's absence by discrediting Potter and his claims of the Dark Lord's return. _Rather than simply trying to gain a Ministry foothold in the school, she is actually angling to become headmistress. Was it her idea, or did someone else plant the notion with Fudge?_ _The Board of Governors will only appoint someone with teaching experience. No, that might not be enough. They nearly always pick a former Head of House or, more rarely, someone from another wizarding school. Which is why she is so interested in Nott. She needs to be able to show experience counseling children._

 _There is no way that I will allow this disgusting toad become headmistress._

 _Of course, antagonizing her will likely set me against the Ministry._

"That will not be necessary. As Mister Nott's Head of House, I am fully qualified to handle these situations. It would not be proper for a near stranger to sit in on these discussions. Perhaps if this had happened later in the school year, when he would be more familiar with you, it would be different," Severus replied.

"Quite right, quite right," boomed Slughorn genially. "Glad to see you taking such care of your students, Severus." _Not that you ever took care of us when you were our Head of House_ , Severus thought bitterly. _You didn't give a damn when my mother died. You made no arrangements for me after my father's death left me an orphan. Not that his death was any great loss._

Umbridge looked like she had choked on a lemon, but smiled nonetheless. It came out looking more like a grimace. "Oh, of course. I wouldn't want to make anything worse for the poor child, after all." She chuckled girlishly. Sprout exchanged an incredulous glance with McGonagall, who barely managed to turn her snort of derision into a cough.

For almost the first time in his life, Severus was glad of Slughorn's presence. He was unassailable, connected to too many powerful people from too many walks of life. Umbridge would never dare gainsay him. _No doubt anxious to collect me now that I won the Paracelsus,_ Severus thought with disdain. _Of course, I wasn't worth the time of day when I was actually his student._ Unfortunately, he had promised to try to gather information from the man. Severus raised his goblet and made a very faint gesture of salute with it before drinking. Slughorn's mustache quivered as he beamed back. Severus did not let his revulsion show.

Somehow, cozying up to Slughorn felt more like surrendering his principles than kneeling before the Dark Lord's feet ever did.

A/N: Please review!


	65. Chapter 65

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 65**

Minerva knocked politely on the open door to Poppy Pomfrey's office. The nurse glanced up from her paperwork and then turned to look at her visitor.

"Minerva," she greeted, smiling. "Here to check on Mister Potter?"

"No, but, while I'm here, how is he doing?"

Pomfrey shrugged. "Fine. Restless, but fine. Severus is off working on an antidote. Said he'll have something ready by this afternoon."

Minerva stepped inside the office, shutting the door behind her. Pomfrey raised her eyebrows but said nothing as Minerva cast some anti-eavesdropping spells. "And Severus? How is he doing?"

"Why do you ask?" Pomfrey said warily.

Minerva hesitated. Pomfrey was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but she had been present last term when Potter had informed Fudge of You-Know-Who's return. She would have seen Snape reveal his Dark Mark to the Minister. "Severus has been . . . under some stress recently. I am concerned about his health."

Pomfrey snorted. "I am not an idiot, Minerva. I know he's a spy."

Minerva bristled. "I didn't –"

"Want to risk his cover? Minerva, _everyone_ knows that he's a spy. Albus did rather publically announce it in front of the entire Wizengamot back in the day. The only question people have is whether or not he's a spy for us or a spy for them."

"Severus is on our side," Minerva replied firmly. "I am absolutely certain of it."

Pomfrey shrugged. "I believe you."

"Of course," Minerva said, feeling a bit flustered by Pomfrey's easy acceptance. Most people responded by demanding how they could be certain that he was truly loyal to them. "I know that what he does takes a toll on him physically, but I have no idea to what extent. And I'm worried about him, Poppy."

The nurse sighed. "Minerva, what exactly are you asking me?"

"How bad off is he? He had – he had a truly terrible day yesterday. I don't know the specifics, but I saw him afterwards. It was – it was not something I would have expected him to recover from easily. But this morning at breakfast, you would never know to look at him that anything had happened."

Pomfrey frowned. Minerva guessed that Snape had not gone to see her for help dealing with his injuries. "There is not much I can tell you. Severus has invoked patient confidentiality, and I am honor-bound to respect his wishes." She paused, obviously weighing her next words carefully. "He knows what he is doing. I'm not sure if I agree, but I can't honestly say I disagree, either. Don't press him on this, Minerva. He is making the best he can out of a bad situation."

Minerva nodded. Pomfrey had, in her way, confirmed her fears. _Something is very wrong with Severus._ "Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

Pomfrey looked very seriously at her. "Win this war quickly." She sighed. "And don't pity him. Merlin knows he wouldn't want that. Like I said, he knows what he is doing."

-DVDVDV-

"No, absolutely not," Tonks said. "I can't bloody believe you're asking this. Especially now."

"My dear, I recognize that the timing is regrettable, and I would certainly caution against looking into this while your department is in such disarray, but it _is_ essential that we have this information," Albus Dumbledore replied. Privately, though, he berated himself for not considering that Kingsley's recent fall from grace would color Tonks' reaction to his request. _But the situation as a whole may only become worse the longer I delay. Kingsley had promised to look into Severus's family history, but he wasn't able to get to it before he had to sacrifice his position. We cannot risk letting this one disaster halt all of our work._

 _Even so, I probably could have afforded to wait more than a few days before broaching the topic with Tonks._

He had overlooked how his declining influence – both politically and in the fight against Voldemort – would make others less likely to follow his lead so readily. Aside from Severus, he had not needed to deal with challenges from allies for many years, and Albus rebuked himself for assuming that circumstances would remain unchanged. He would need to step back and rethink how he dealt with the members of the Order. Asking them simply to trust his judgment would no longer suffice, not now that they were repeatedly confronted with the flawed mistakes of his past in the form of Gellert.

"If it's so bloody important, just ask Professor Snape," Tonks retorted. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not going to muck about with his privacy. Not again. Not without a damn good reason."

Albus's eyes twinkled even as the professor in him wanted to chastise her for her language. "That is a very commendable attitude, Miss Tonks. But, alas, I fear that informing Severus of this question could prove highly detrimental."

"Why?" Tonks asked. "I'm sorry, sir, but I just don't get it. I mean, what difference does it make who the professor's family is?"

"There are some possible familial connections that might be illuminating."

"But why?" she pressed. "He said his parents died ages ago. Why's it suddenly so important?"

 _Because he might be Mordred._ Albus considered telling her, but hesitated. Tonks seemed to get along surprisingly well with the Damned, especially considering that she was an auror. And ever since they had viewed Severus's memories, she had been vocal in her support of the potions master. _Does she know or suspect the truth?_

Albus smiled warmly. "Thank you, my dear. I am very proud of you." When Tonks looked suitably confused, he let his smile widen. He continued, "Given recent events, I admit that I was concerned about our tendency to fall into old patterns. I am relieved to see that we can learn from our past mistakes."

"This was a test?" she asked incredulously.

"One that you passed admirably, my dear."

Tonks smiled uncertainly, but, to Albus's relief, she seemed to accept that explanation.

 _I need to find another means of investigating Severus's family tree. Arthur has no reason to enter that particular section of the Ministry, and I doubt Minerva will be any more willing to look into the Hogwarts archives without telling Severus, not if Tonks is refusing to look at the Ministry files._

-DVDVDV-

That night at dinner, a tawny owl flew to Severus Snape's place at the staff table. He removed the letter attached to its leg and read it, scowling.

"Something wrong, Severus?" Minerva asked, noticing his expression. After a brief hesitation, he wordlessly handed the letter to her. She flinched slightly as she caught a flicker of reddish fire appear in his dark eyes. A moment later, it was gone. She shook her head as if to clear it. _The torchlight is playing tricks on me._ She scanned the letter, frowning as she read.

 _"_ _Professor Snape,_

 _"_ _Earlier today, Dumbledore asked me to look into your family tree in the Ministry archives. He wouldn't explain why. I told him no. Afterwards, he acted like it was just a test to see what I'd do, but it didn't sit right with me. I hope it really was just a test, and you already knew about it. Either way, I thought I'd let you know._

 _"_ _I know this letter won't make up for what we did, but I hope it's a small step towards making things right._

 _"_ _Yours sincerely,_

 _Tonks"_

Muttering under her breath, Minerva asked herself, "What could possibly be going through that man's mind?" She handed the letter back to him. "I take it he didn't mention this 'test' to you?"

Snape snorted. "No."

"Want me to yell at him again?" she offered, hoping to lighten his mood. At this, some of the other teachers turned curiously to look at her.

He smirked. "No, I think not. I am quite capable of handling disgruntled apothecaries on my own."

Minerva blinked, and then nodded, recognizing that others were watching. "Of course."

-DVDVDV-

That night, Gellert looked up as Severus's silver doe patronus appeared.

"Dumbledore suspects that I am Mordred. We need to implement our contingency plan."

A/N: Please review!


	66. Chapter 66

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 66**

Sirius Black was in the proverbial doghouse.

After Kingsley Shacklebolt had rescued him from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Dumbledore had given Sirius the lecture of his life. Fury and disappointment had radiated from him in an intimidating aura of power. He had explained, in exacting detail, precisely how much trouble Sirius had caused. Sirius had broken his trust once again. Dumbledore warned that they would not risk giving him a third opportunity.

Grindelwald had not even bothered with a lecture. He had just stared at Sirius, barely blinking. As the long silence stretched, Sirius fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable under the condemnation in the man's eyes. At last, Grindelwald wordlessly withdrew a rune-encrusted dog collar from a box in his pocket and, still staring, placed it around Sirius's throat.

Sirius had started to protest when he saw the collar, but he flinched and fell still under the weight of that silent gaze. Even with all his Gryffindor courage, he could not bring himself even to ask what the collar did in the face of the _supposedly_ former dark lord's displeasure.

Whenever he entered a room, Order members would fall suddenly silent. Their eyes would track his movements, glaring at him. Sometimes, they would mutter to one another in angry whispers, shooting him the sort of ugly looks that Snivellus used to get.

The only one who would still talk to him was Kreacher, but that was no source of comfort. The mad house elf seemed to take a perverse joy in his master's sudden loss of popularity. "Even his filthy blood traitor friends want nothing to do with him. Oh, if my poor mistress could see how far her worthless son has fallen. No one will defend the rabid dog over the beggar Prince now, oh, no, they won't. How Master Regulus would laugh and laugh."

With scorn and contempt from all corners, Sirius retreated upstairs to Buckbeak's room, a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a dead ferret in the other. The great hippogriff raised his head as he entered. Sirius threw the ferret to him, and Buckbeak snatched it from the air, chewing happily.

"At least you still like me," Sirius muttered, taking a long drink from the bottle. "Don't they understand that I was just trying to help? Sure, the raid went wrong, but they can't put all of that on me. What did they expect, that a Death Eater would just _chat_ with them? So what if I wasn't supposed to be there? I fought in the first war, didn't I? They had no issues with me helping out then. But now it's all 'stay in the house, Sirius' and 'it's not safe for you out there, Sirius.' We took care of ourselves just fine for a year, didn't we, Buckbeak? And now they want to coop us up here in this house. Merlin, but I hate this place."

Buckbeak gave a quiet _squawk_. Sirius drank some more of the firewhisky and sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry about Kingsley, too. He shouldn't have had to lose his job over this. But I just wanted to help! Dumbledore hasn't been too happy with me since the Azkaban breakout, and some of the others . . . . I mean, even Tonks was pretty upset, saying those snide things. Can't believe cousin Andi's daughter would act like that. I _was_ going to give Harry that letter! I just didn't want him exposed too much to Grindelwald. And how was I supposed to regain their trust if they didn't let me _do_ anything to help? It's just not fair, is it, boy?"

There was a knock on the door. Sirius turned, and saw Remus standing there, an envelope in his hand. He gave a disappointed look at the bottle of firewhisky, but said nothing. Sirius tried to smile at his old friend. "Hey, Moony."

Remus sighed. "Sirius. Albus sent me up here to talk to you. Kingsley needs a place to stay, since he's a wanted fugitive. The Ministry is doubtless watching his house by now, and, well . . . ." he began awkwardly.

"He's welcome to stay here," Sirius interjected hastily. "It's the very least I could do."

Remus tilted his head and gave him an odd look. "Yes, it is. The very least."

 _Damn. Even Remus hasn't forgiven me yet._ "I'm sorry, Moony. Really, I am. It's just this house, and not being allowed to do anything constructive, everything . . . . I only wanted to help. I can't stand just sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone else get to play."

Remus gave a small, sad smile. To Sirius, it looked more like a grimace. "That's the problem, Sirius. This is a war, not a quidditch match. The consequences are too high to go off on your own like that. Until you understand that, you're going to have a lot of people upset with you. There's some talking about leaving the Order because of what happened."

That shocked Sirius. "That's ridiculous! If they can't handle one little setback, they shouldn't be here! They're just going to roll over and let Voldemort win?"

Again, Remus tilted his head at Siruis. This time, he got a sense of vast disappointment coming from his old friend. "The Order isn't the only group fighting Voldemort anymore, Sirius. And this wasn't one little setback. It was pretty bad. We lost our best placed person in the auror department. As good as Tonks is, she's not nearly as highly ranked as Kingsley was. And Kingsley's life has essentially been ruined. Even if everything comes to light in the end, I doubt they'll reinstate him. Not only that, but Voldemort suspects that we're working with Lord Grindelwald. According to Minerva, Severus was gone all day yesterday and only barely managed to keep his cover. He was tortured pretty thoroughly anyway." Sirius scoffed at the mention of Snivellus, causing Remus to frown. "You might not like him, Sirius, but he's on our side here."

"Fine," Siruis muttered.

Remus sighed. He handed Sirius the envelope in his hand. "From Harry," he said. Turning to go, he added, "Please think about it. I know you wanted to help, but . . . well, this isn't school anymore, Padfoot." He left the room.

Sirius looked down at the envelope, concerned. His relationship with his godson had been tense recently. _It's all Snivellus's fault,_ he thought _. His and that bastard Mordred's._ With some trepidation, Sirius opened the envelope, revealing the shortest letter he had ever received from Harry. It consisted of only one word: _Why?_

Taking another long swig of firewhiskey, Sirius left the room with a sigh, wondering how he could explain this to his godson.

A/N: Please review!


	67. Chapter 67

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 67**

Harry crumpled his letter with a grimace. Reading Sirius's explanation had done nothing to improve his faltering opinion of his godfather. He loved Sirius, he really did, but Harry could not agree that "tired of feeling useless" was an acceptable reason to stun Bill Weasley and disrupt an Order mission. _"_ _In war, the side that informs all their soldiers of all plans is the side that loses,"_ Grindelwald had said. And now, finally, Harry truly understood.

He was still frustrated by the lack of information given to him, but at least his ignorance made sense. Harry was not involved in these Order missions, and therefore did not need to know. He _wanted_ to know, but he could not affect the outcome either way. It was not much easier to stomach, but he found that he could not fault their reasoning.

"That bad?" Hermione asked, a too-knowing look in her eyes.

Harry scowled. "I feel bad for Si- Snuffles being cooped up, but when you remember what the results were . . ." He trailed off, eyes flickering in the direction of the staff table, where Snape was giving the occasional grunt of acknowledgement while Slughorn monologued. "It sort of drives home what Mordred told me in that letter."

Harry did not know how he should feel about Snape now. Since he had been made an unwilling witness to Snape's torture at the hands of Voldemort, it had become impossible to deny the evidence that he was truly on their side. Harry remembered with shame how he had shouted at Hermione over the summer when she tried to defend Snape. At the time, he had still believed Snape to be connected to the dementor attack in Little Whinging. Now, though, he could see that he had misjudged the man very badly.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to reconcile Snape's heroics with his general nastiness.

 _He's repeatedly subjecting himself to agony to help us. He wouldn't do that if he were evil, or even just selfish. Even if he_ is _petty and vicious and cruel._

It was hard to accept in his black-and-white Gryffindor moral framework. Nice people are the good guys. The good guys fight dark wizards. Dark wizards are Death Eaters.

 _Can a bad person be a good guy? Can a dark wizard be a hero?_

Hermione nodded, looking slightly green. Harry knew that she was thinking about what he had revealed about his vision. She had reluctantly admitted that she had seen Snape when he returned, but had refused to go into any details. It had annoyed Ron, but Harry had reluctantly understood. _If you don't need to know, you should not be told. Thinking back, I probably shouldn't even have told Ron or Hermione about what I saw._

Ron shook his head, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Yeah, mate, but you can't beat yourself up about that. I mean, Mordred was a real git in that letter. No one else seemed to think that way."

"And maybe that's the problem!" Harry snapped, temper flaring. Lowering his voice again as nearby people turned to stare, he continued, "Everyone else just gave me a pat on the back and sent me along. But what makes what we did any better than what Snuffles did, except that we got lucky? At least Mordred explains his reasoning."

Hermione frowned. "I don't think we should be mentioning his name, not in public," she said softly.

Harry flushed, remembering Snape's rant about discussing Order matters where others could overhear. "Right. I guess we'll need a code or something for him, like with Snuffles."

"Maybe 'the half-blood prince,'" Ron suggested. He shrugged at their incredulous looks. "I overheard mum and dad calling him that before."

"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed. He nodded towards the letter in Hermione's hand. "How about you?" he asked, hoping to change the subject. To his surprise, Hermione flushed slightly.

"Oh, it's from Viktor," she said. "He got permission to take time off from practice to come visit. We'll be meeting up for the first Hogsmeade weekend."

Ron scowled. "And how is dear Vickie doing?" he asked, angrily stabbing his fork into a sausage.

"Don't call him that!" Hermione snapped. "And he's doing really well. He's very concerned about what's going on here in Britain, though. He wanted me to transfer to Beaubatons, actually, since it'd be safer, but agreed that I have a right to fight for what matters."

"Why not Durmstrang," Ron snarled. "His school too good for you?"

"Ron, you know that Durmstrang doesn't let in muggleborns," Hermione retorted.

"Biased git," Ron muttered.

"That's enough! _Viktor_ isn't the one being biased. He has no issue with muggleborns. Or with muggles, for that matter. He's been really great with my parents."

"But –"

"Guys, please," Harry interrupted, tired of their bickering. He looked down at his watch and checked the time. "I've got to go. McGonagall wanted to talk to me about something."

Ron and Hermione waved him off as he gathered his book bag and headed towards the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to her office. For Harry, it still seemed surreal thinking of it as McGonagall's, rather than Dumbledore's. He gave the password she had provided, and climbed the rotating spiral staircase.

"Mister Potter," McGonagall greeted. She gestured at one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Please, take a seat."

Harry sat. "What did you want to talk about, Professor?" he asked. "Is it something to do with Voldemort?"

McGonagall flinched slightly at the sound of the name. "In part. I discussed the vision you described in the hospital wing two days ago with Professor Dumbledore, and he expressed his concerns that You-Know-Who could learn about and potentially reverse the connection." Harry's eyes widened. He had not considered the possibility that his ability to see into Voldemort's mind might allow Voldemort to see into his. _Could Voldemort be watching through my eyes right now? Would I even know it? He didn't seem to realize when I was there._ At his expression, McGonagall gave a grim smile. "I am glad that you recognize the severity of this situation. Fortunately, we have a potential means of protecting yourself. Are you familiar with the term 'occlumency,' Mister Potter?"

Harry nodded. After his conversation with Grindelwald and Mordred at Grimmauld Place, he had asked Sirius about it. His godfather had been familiar with the concept, but had no training in it himself. It was, apparently, a very rare skill. A few members of the Order had rudimentary shields, but only Dumbledore and Moody were considered proficient enough to train anyone. Moody had refused to teach him, muttering darkly about people messing about in his head, and Dumbledore had avoided him all summer. Harry had even tried to find a book on the subject in the Black library, but the only one he found was ancient, with the English so archaic that he had trouble understanding it.

"Excellent. We would like you to begin studying it as soon as possible." She handed him a book. Harry looked at it, noticing the title, _Mental Arts for Mental Sorts_. "We are trying to find an instructor for you, but, unfortunately, the only expert occlumens currently at Hogwarts is Master Snape."

"I don't want Snape poking around in my head!" Harry exclaimed. Just because he could finally acknowledge that Snape was on their side, that did not make the man any less snide and unpleasant.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter. As I was saying, _Master_ Snape agrees that teaching you occlumency could be problematic given your personal histories. Therefore, I would like you to study this text and begin practicing the exercises in it while we search for a potential tutor. I must warn you, however, that it may be difficult to bring someone to Hogwarts given the current environment. You may ultimately need to train with him."

"Yes, Professor," Harry muttered.

She nodded. "And now for the second reason I asked you here. You must learn to control your temper, Mister Potter, especially around Professor Umbridge."

"But she –"

"I am well aware that she is provoking you, Mister Potter," McGonagall interrupted. "You need to learn to control yourself anyway. You are only giving her, and your other detractors, more cause to doubt you. Fortunately, Severus has informed me that using occlumency can help control one's emotions, so learning this subject should go hand in hand with managing your temper."

 _If Snape is such a bloody brilliant occlumens, why hasn't it improved_ his _temper?_ Harry barely refrained from saying that aloud. Instead, he simply nodded sullenly.

"Dolores Umbridge has been sent by Minister Fudge to enforce 'reforms' at Hogwarts. Do not make things worse by challenging her." She gave Harry a stern, piercing look. "Some battles are won by not fighting. Do you understand what I am saying, Mister Potter?"

Harry frowned. That did not seem like a very Gryffindor attitude. McGonagall sighed. "If you push her, she will push back. And she will have the full weight of the Ministry behind her. Despite their current obstinacy, we will need their support in this war."

Harry nodded. That sounded remarkably like Mordred's admonitions in his letter, warning him about alienating the other Hogwarts Houses. "I understand, Professor. I'll try. I promise."

A/N: Please review!


	68. Chapter 68

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 68**

That Saturday, Severus stood inside a well-appointed, brightly lit muggle conference room, noting the large table in the center and the twenty surrounding chairs with approval.

"Well?" Gellert asked.

"It should suffice," Severus replied. _And illegally appropriating a room in a muggle hotel will avoid any strain on our finances._

Gellert clapped his hands together. "Excellent! In anticipation, I have already handled the primary wards – anti-muggle, anti-eavesdropping, and so forth – but will need your assistance with the _fidelius_."

Severus frowned. "That spell requires two people to cast and a third to hold the secret. Whom were you planning to enlist?"

 _"_ _Me,"_ Hellspawn said smugly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I was not aware that the spell would accept non-wizards as secret keeper."

Gellert grinned boyishly. "As far as I know, no one has tried. If it fails, it fails. But if it succeeds, there is little chance of discovery. Hellspawn can apparate people here, thereby sharing the secret with them. Yet at the same time, I cannot see him revealing our location under torture, can you?"

Hellspawn preened even as Severus snorted. _"At least Gellert appreciates my perfection."_

"Then he is welcome to you," Severus muttered, but without his customary ire. "Shall we begin?"

They laid out the preparations for the _fidelius_ , and then Severus and Gellert each began to chant, waving their wands in complex patterns in front of Hellspawn as they did so. About halfway through, a faint blue nimbus of light surrounded the phoenix. It grew brighter and brighter as the chanting continued, before suddenly vanishing as the two wizards finished casting the spell.

Severus looked around with some interest. He, Gellert, and Hellspawn seemed to be in the center of a dense fog cloud.

 _"_ _A meeting room of the Penitent Damned is located in Conference Room 3C of the Cymru Luxury Inn, Cardiff,"_ Hellspawn said. The room suddenly came back into focus.

"Well," Gellert said happily, "I'd say that worked."

Severus nodded, and then took out his wand to begin the process of transforming into Mordred. As soon as he was done, he nodded once at Hellspawn, who vanished in a flash of flame. Severus and Gellert took seats at one end of the conference table, and waited for Hellspawn to return.

A few minutes later, Hellspawn returned, carrying a confused-looking Tonks and Shacklebolt with him. They drew their wands immediately.

Gellert raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Peace, my friends," he said. "We simply wished to speak with you, away from the prying ears of Mister Black."

Shacklebolt frowned, but lowered his wand. Glancing at him, Tonks did as well. "Where are we?" he asked in his slow, deep voice.

"We are in a muggle hotel in Cardiff, Mister Shacklebolt," Severus replied. "You are welcome to leave whenever you wish. I would apologize for the manner of your entry, but Hellspawn is the secret keeper for this location, and having him bring you directly seemed like the most efficacious means of sharing the secret."

"Please, have a seat," Gellert added, gesturing to the empty chairs around the table.

Slowly, Shacklebolt and Tonks sat.

"What did you want to discuss?" Shacklebolt asked warily.

"First, we wish to convey our recognition of the sacrifice you made two days ago. It should never have been necessary," Gellert said.

Shacklebolt nodded slowly, and Tonks scowled. "I can't bloody believe Sirius," she muttered.

"We understand if you are feeling disillusioned with the Order of the Phoenix at this point, and hope to convince you not to abandon the fight against Riddle. We seek to offer you an alternative," Gellert continued.

Severus contained a snort. Accordingly to Gellert, Shacklebolt was now forced to remain hidden in Grimmauld Place following the debacle with Nott's death and Black's escape. This had not gone over well with most of the Order. As oblivious at most of them were, even they could recognize that leaving Shacklebolt and Black together would be a recipe for disaster.Tonks and the Weasleys had been especially vocal in their support of Shacklebolt and opposition to this arrangement. But with such short notice, there had been no alternative safe houses available, and thus Shacklebolt had been forced to agree.

On the plus side, Black was persona non grata with virtually the entire Order of the Phoenix at this point.

Shacklebolt nodded slowly. "What are you offering?" he asked.

"To enlist your assistance with one of our future endeavors," Severus said. "Auror Tonks made a suggestion of some merit several weeks ago, and from what Gellert has passed on to me, she had made significant progress with her experimentation. Yet for this plan to succeed, we require additional volunteers. In the meantime, we can also offer a room in this hotel as a temporary safe house, should you prefer here to Grimmauld Place."

Shacklebolt turned to Tonks, who had flushed slightly at Severus's praise. She grinned. "I've been practicing transforming myself to look like You-Know-Who. Show up somewhere nice and public, then leave once enough people get a good look."

"Show me," Shacklebolt said.

Tonks screwed up her face for a moment, and then her features shifted. Her bright pink hair receded, her nose vanished into slits, and her eyes turned crimson. A few seconds later, a fair approximation of the Dark Lord sat at the table. Severus fought to contain his immediate instinct to kneel.

 _"_ _A fair facsimile,"_ Hellspawn noted. _"_ _Better fashion sense than the Dark Lord has, though."_

Gellert chuckled. Tonks turned to him, looking slightly hurt. "My apologies. Hellspawn simply commented on the incongruity of your wardrobe, considering your current appearance."

Tonks looked down at her yellow tank top with a bright red heart printed on the center. She laughed, and even Shacklebolt smiled.

"Your resemblance is excellent, Auror Tonks," Severus said. "However, if I might recommend a few minor modifications? The eyes should be spaced slightly farther apart, and there should be a faint pattern of scales on the neck." Tonks frowned, but made the adjustments. Severus nodded. "Could you please try saying something?"

"Ssssure. What should I sssay?" Tonks asked, voice high and cold.

"That's uncanny," Shacklebolt said softly.

"Thank you, Auror Tonks. That will suffice. You may resume your preferred form," Severus said. She scrunched up her face again, and returned to her normal appearance. "Auror Shacklebolt?"

"What do you need me to do?"

"Polyjuice yourself as a Death Eater and appear with Auror Tonks in public. We have two potential locations in mind – Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. You and the other 'Death Eaters' will threaten one of our associates, the exact specifics of the dialog to be determined. When that fails, Auror Tonks will appear. There will be a staged battle with some minimal property damage. Reinforcements will arrive, and the 'enemy' shall flee. Which location and 'victim' we select will be dependent on which other parties we can enlist," Severus replied.

Shacklebolt nodded. "Very well." He turned to Tonks. "Good plan." She beamed at him. He turned back to Severus and Gellert. "And thank you. I would prefer not to remain at Order Headquarters."

Gellert smiled and clapped his hands together once. "Fantastic. Let us ward a room for you, shall we?"

As they left the room, Severus turned to Tonks and said, very formally, "On behalf of the Penitent Damned, I thank you, Auror Tonks." He paused a moment. "Master Snape wishes to thank you as well. If you have time tomorrow, would you be amenable to meeting with the two of us here? He may also have some additional suggestions for your impersonation, as he has the most personal experience dealing with Tom Riddle."

Tonks shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

 _Time for Gellert to try his hand as Mordred._

-DVDVDV-

Two days later, Albus Dumbledore was surprised – and privately relieved – to overhear Tonks chatting animatedly with Bill Weasley about a meeting she and Kingsley had with Mordred and Severus.

 _It seems my fears were misplaced. And, perhaps, Severus's animosity towards the Order may be lessening, if he is willing to speak with members other than Minerva._

He was less relieved when he learned that they were planning to have Tonks impersonate Voldemort. Especially when no amount of argument could persuade her, or the Damned, to abandon their mad plan.

A/N:

Sorry for the delay in posting! The site was down earlier today.

Please review!


	69. Chapter 69

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 69**

The following days fell into a comfortable pattern. Severus would spend about six or seven hours brewing for the hospital wing and about six hours researching. The bulk of his studies focused on a treatment for his _cruciatus_ damage, but he also began examining methods of unassisted flight in earnest. The Dark Lord was not pleased with him, and he needed a major success if he were to retain his position of relative favor. Interspersed among this work were meetings with his students, meals in the Great Hall, and forcing himself not to poison that miserable Umbridge woman.

Mercifully, he had not been summoned since he had reported Black's supposed orders to infiltrate Grindelwald's camp. It was only a matter of time, though, which is why Severus now stood at the top of the astronomy tower.

He wished he could risk casting a disillusionment charm on himself, or even placing wards around the area. Unfortunately, adding extra spells could interfere with the results of his experiments. He remembered vividly how a notice-me-not charm had reacted with the early stages of what would become his _muffliato_ spell. Luckily, he had been alone at the time, and no one had been able to identify him as the one responsible for flooding the common room. _At least the staff and prefects rarely bother to patrol anything higher than the first few floors_ , he reminded himself.

Severus looked down, confirming that the ancient school broom remained at the base of the tower. After casting several cushioning charms on the ground below, he began his tests.

" _Volare_ ," Severus said softly, waving his wand in a complex pattern over himself.

He jumped.

He did not fly.

Fortunately, the cushioning charms prevented any damage from the impact. Severus picked himself up and took hold of the school broom. He flew back to the top of the tower. With a gentle banishing spell, he returned the broom to the ground.

" _Volare,_ " he said again, altering the pattern of his spell slightly. He jumped. Again, he fell to the earth below.

After several dozen more failed attempts, Severus returned to his quarters, unsurprised by his initial results. Spell creation was not a simple or straightforward art, and he expected to fall unceremoniously to the ground hundreds, if not thousands, of more times before he began to see any progress. _Assuming I do make progress_ , he thought. _There is a_ reason _no one has been able to fly without a broom, or a carpet, or some other means of assistance before now._

 _No, if I think like that, I will make no progress at all. Everything is impossible until someone manages to do it._

 _"_ _Back already?"_ Hellspawn asked.

"Obviously," Severus drawled.

 _"_ _Any luck?"_

"Not as of yet, but that is simply to be expected for this stage in the process. I believe that the Dark Lord's intimation was correct. Charms alone will not suffice. I suspect that I shall need to combine charms and transfiguration if this endeavor is to succeed." Severus took out a sheet of parchment, and began writing down equations.

 _"_ _I want to watch when you try again."_

"Certainly not."

 _"_ _But I can help! After all,_ I _can fly on my own. My insights might prove essential."_

"Of course you can fly on your own. You're a bloody bird. Are your 'insights' likely to consist of anything other than mockery?"

 _"_ _Probably not,"_ Hellspawn admitted. _"_ _But your quarters are really boring."_

Severus had no sympathy for the phoenix. "Then you should not have sought to bond with me. That is the price you pay for no longer being invisible." He looked down at what he had written, and crossed out a line. He mentally went through some quick arithmancy calculations, and then added a few more notes to the page.

 _"_ _I rather expected that I'd be allowed to go_ with _you in public once you accepted me. Are you ashamed of me?"_

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I believe we had agreed that publically acknowledging our bond would be tantamount to suicide," he drawled. "And that you, at least, were personally opposed to my demise?"

 _"_ _Well, yes,"_ the phoenix admitted. _"_ _Hey, does 'Mordred' have anything else he needs to do? We could go off, smite some foes . . . you know,_ do _something."_

"You sound like a Gryffindor."

 _"_ _There is a reason Gryffindor colors are red and gold,"_ Hellspawn reminded him.

"And I am 'doing something,' as you so eloquently put it. I am securing my continued ability to function by researching a better _cruciatus_ treatment. I am suffering Horace Slughorn's company in the hopes of finding some opening to ask him about those damnable horcruxes, preferably without giving the man a heart attack. And I am appeasing the Dark Lord by learning how to fly."

 _"_ _And how's that going?"_ Hellspawn asked snidely. _"_ _Not well. So let's do something more productive."_

"Will you just be silent?"

 _"_ _But –"_

"If I wished to listen to pointless chatter, I would go and visit Slughorn. As I am obviously _not_ doing so at the moment, you can infer that I would prefer silence."

The phoenix huffed but fell mercifully quiet. _Finally._ Severus looked up from his notes and crossed the room to where he had left _Flights of Fancy_. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Re-reading the section on Icarus's wings, he compared the text with his notes and then wrote down a few points to test next time.

On his sixth evening of testing, Severus finally saw some progress. _"Volare corde avum_ ," Severus said. Unlike with his previous attempts, he felt something shift within him. When he jumped, he felt himself drift slowly to the ground. He still could not remain airborne, nor could he exert much control over the direction of his descent, but it was a start.

On the eighth night, he was caught.

A/N:

To translate Severus's flight spells from Latin, the first is simply, "to fly." The second attempt is (very roughly) "to fly with the heart of a bird." Apologies if I mangled the Latin too badly!

Please review!


	70. Chapter 70

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 70**

Severus stood at the edge of the astronomy tower, poised to jump, when he heard a young woman's terrified voice cry, "Stop!" He turned to see Granger, who stared at him, eyes wide with concern. _Damn it. Why does she keep finding me when I least want company?_

He fixed her with a withering glare. "Miss Granger. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your presence?"

"I thought – it looked like – were you going to jump?"

 _Oh, of course, she was worried I was going to commit suicide in front of her._ That lessened his ire somewhat. _But even so, it would be foolish to encourage her meddling._ "I fail to see how my actions concern you, Miss Granger. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your presumption. Return to your common room, or it will be fifty."

Granger bit her lip nervously. She seemed to be struggling between her moral obligations and her respect for authority. Moral obligations won out. Under other circumstances, and with any other authority figure, he might have been impressed with her decision. "You weren't – weren't trying to, er, kill yourself, were you, sir?"

Snape sneered at her. "There are better means of killing oneself than jumping off a tower, Miss Granger." _I should know. I've tried most of them._

She relaxed, releasing a deep breath. "So you're not suicidal?" she asked, almost to herself, sounding relieved.

 _Sometimes._ "Hardly, Miss Granger." _Not at the moment, at least._ "Although should you continue your pestering, I may reconsider my decision." She flinched, and Snape chided himself for letting his tongue get away from him. He was supposed to be grooming her as a potential ally, not alienating her. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was conducting an experiment, Miss Granger. Proper safety precautions were in place. There is no need for your concern."

Granger looked taken aback by his quasi-apology. "Oh!" she said. There was an obvious internal struggle. _No doubt the little know-it-all is bursting to ask what I was testing._ "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Severus was about to reply scathingly in the negative, but then had an idea. He could not discuss it here, though, not without first taking steps to ensure their privacy. Besides, he wanted to consult with Gellert first. He smirked. "Detention, Miss Granger, at six o'clock. My office."

She recoiled as if he had struck her. She bowed her head, and muttered softly, "Yes, sir."

-DVDVDV-

With no small degree of trepidation, Hermione knocked on the door of Master Snape's office at precisely six o'clock. The door swung open, revealing Snape sitting at his desk. She entered, and the door shut behind her. Snape waved his wand, casting what Hermione recognized as a complex locking spell. She swallowed nervously, intimidated despite knowing that she was in no danger. She watched as he proceeded to cast several more spells, none of which she recognized.

"Sit," Snape said, gesturing at the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair on the opposite side of his desk. She sat, forcing herself not to fidget. The chair was just as uncomfortable as it had appeared, and she was nervous as she awaited her punishment for interfering the previous night. "Miss Granger, I believe that you are still in contact with Mister Krum, is that correct? And that he will be visiting you in Hogsmeade in October?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. _What is this about? I thought this was detention for bothering him yesterday._ "How did you know?"

"Contrary to what you students may think, Miss Granger, the staff of this school is not deaf. Nor are you and your friends as discreet as you seem to suppose. Or did you imagine that no one could hear your argument with Mister Weasley in the Great Hall last week?"

Hermione felt her face heat. "Oh."

"Have you discussed the war with him at all?"

She bit her lip. _Would Snape be upset by that she had?_ She considered hedging, but remembered her parents' admonitions and what Mordred had written in his letter to Harry. _Tell the truth._ "Yes, sir. But he's on our side! Even if he went to Durmstrang, that doesn't mean he –"

Snape raised a hand, cutting her off. "I am well aware of that, Miss Granger. If one's school of attendance were the sole factor in determining one's allegiances, Hogwarts alumni would include no Death Eaters. Nor do I question Mister Krum's loyalties. I simply wish to inquire if he would be willing to assist us with something that we are planning."

Hermione felt instantly foolish. "I think so, sir. He's mentioned that he'd be willing to help." She blushed. _What Viktor had actually said was, "A man who does not fight to protect his love is not a man."_ "What would you need him to do?"

"Death Eaters are going to attack you in Hogsmeade, Miss Granger. All we require is for the two of you to stall them as long as possible _without_ actually defeating them. It is crucial that multiple witnesses observe the encounter."

Hermione felt her eyes widen. "You want us to be bait in a trap?" she asked. Snape gave a single curt nod. She frowned. "Will it be safe?"

"As safe as we can make it, Miss Granger."

She bit her lip nervously. "Alright. I'll ask Viktor."

"As a _romantic gesture_ ," Snape said, lips curling into a sneer as he said the words, "I would recommend that he reserve the entirety of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop for the occasion." Hermione grimaced. She had passed by the establishment a few times on prior Hogsmeade visits. It was a sickly sweet pink monstrosity that reminded her horribly of Professor Umbridge. She nodded anyway. "Also, if you are not sensible enough to be doing so by now, Miss Granger, I recommend that you begin to employ a cipher," Snape added. "If your correspondence is not already under surveillance, it will be shortly."

She felt her face heat as she flushed. Neither she nor Viktor had thought to encrypt their letters. She nodded her understanding. "What about Harry and Ron?"

Snape sneered. "Yes, naturally your friends should take precautions with their missives as well."

Hermione's flush deepened. She knew that her face must be bright red by now. "No, I mean, what will they be doing while Viktor and I are dealing with the Death Eaters? They won't just sit back and watch."

Snape smirked. "Alas, your friends will have detention with Filch and will be unable to attend Hogsmeade that day."

Hermione wanted to protest that this was not fair, but refrained. _What's one unjust detention compared to keeping them out of harm's way?_ "Yes, sir."

He nodded curtly. "Miss Granger, you are not to discuss this conversation with anyone other than Mister Krum. That includes Potter and Weasley. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"And now, for the matter of your detention," Snape added, "sit here and be silent for the next hour." In what seemed like an afterthought, he added, "See that you avoid the astronomy tower in your patrols going forward."

A/N: Please review!


	71. Chapter 71

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 71**

Finally, after weeks of listening to Slughorn's anecdotes about former students and less than subtle hints that he would be delighted to help make some connections, Severus had decided on the approach he would take. That evening at dinner, he accepted an offer to join Slughorn in his quarters for drinks. Umbridge glared at him testily, but smiled sweetly when Slughorn turned in her direction. _Trying to curry favor with Slughorn, are you? And annoyed you did not receive an invitation as well?_

Slughorn's quarters were much as Severus had expected, opulent and yet tasteful, cheerfully lit, with shelves brimming with curious knickknacks and photographs of smiling former students. He accepted his glass of oak-matured mead with a polite nod, barely sipping it as he listened as Slughorn droned on and on about Gwenog Jones as if Severus cared one whit about quidditch beyond the Slytherin House team's chances.

At last, there was a break in the monologue, and Severus saw his opportunity. "Horace," he began, voice soft but without its usual menace, "have you ever done something you regret?"

Slughorn's eyes widened, and his chins wobbled in surprise. "Well," he said uncertainly, "well, of course I have. Everyone has, I imagine, Severus. Why do you ask?"

"And do you think that there is any way for a man to redeem himself afterwards?" Severus said, ignoring the question.

"Yes, yes I do," Slughorn replied, even as beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He took out a handkerchief and began nervously mopping his forehead. "But Severus, really, what is this about?"

"How, Horace? How can he achieve redemption? How can he undo his mistakes?" As he spoke, Severus stared intently at Slughorn. The older man flinched, but seemed unable to look away.

"It – it depends. On the mistake."

Severus continued to stare into the eyes of his former Head of House, boring into them. "I have done terrible things, Horace. Things that, I think, you already suspect." He glanced meaningfully down at his left arm, and then returned his gaze to Slughorn, who had gone deathly pale. "Did you know that I came to Albus Dumbledore to make amends?"

"I, er, heard rumors to that effect."

"Do you think that I ever can?"

"I – I don't know, Severus. Severus, surely there's someone else you could talk to about this –"

"You were my Head of House, Horace. If I cannot speak with you about such things, then to whom else can I turn? But answer me this. If I cannot fully atone, should I even try?"

Slughorn gulped. "Yes, you should. Of course. Yes."

Severus smiled. It was a cold, cruel thing. "I agree. And you, Horace, do you wish to make amends? To undo that which you have wrought?"

"I – I don't know what you mean, Severus."

Severus gave him a disbelieving look. "Of course you do. I know about the Dark Lord's horcruxes, Horace." Slughorn's hands shook, and he dropped his glass of mead to the floor. It shattered, but neither man turned. "And I know that you are aware of them as well. And that you, in some small way, helped him."

"I – I don't know what you mean!" Slughorn spluttered. "Now, I think – I think that you really should leave."

Severus pointed his hand at the nearest row of photographs. "Edgar Bones, Gideon and Fabien Prewett, Eunice Rothschild . . . need I continue the list?" He watched as Slughorn's eyes filled with unshed tears. _So, he truly does care about his students. The so-called Slug Club members, at least._ "Do you not wish to see him defeated?"

"Of course I do! And I would help you if I could. But I know nothing. Nothing!"

Severus sighed. "Horace, whatever you have done is as nothing compared to the sins I bear. I will not condemn you for them. But their weight on your soul _will_ ease should you confess." He smiled a sad, crooked smile. "After all, I would know." _Their weight does not ease at all. Nothing can ever erase their sting. But this is the lie that others told me, and it is a lie I suspect you want to believe._

Slughorn licked his lips nervously. "What – what _did_ you do?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, and Slughorn gave a shudder. "Murder. Torture. Dark magic. The usual things, Horace. And you, what did you do?"

Again, Slughorn licked his lips. He took out his handkerchief again, and began to twist it nervously in his hands. "You won't – you won't tell _him_ , will you, Severus?"

"You and I both regret being misled by him. I have no desire to compound my crimes now that I understand my former folly."

There was a long silence as Slughorn considered. Severus waited, saying nothing but continuing to stare into Slughorn's fear-stricken eyes. At least, he said, voice quiet and broken in defeat, "I told him, I told him what horcruxes were, when he asked me. I wanted to believe it was only an academic question! But he asked me about making _multiple_ horcruxes. I should have told someone. Dippet, Dumbledore, the Ministry – anyone! But I didn't. I didn't want to believe he was capable of such – of such evil."

"And did he say how many?" Severus pressed.

"Seven, he said seven was the most powerful magical number." Slughorn's eyes were wide with horror at the memory.

"Seven horcruxes?" Severus clarified.

Slughorn shook his head. "No, one piece would need to remain in his body. But – but surely he could not have made so many?" he asked, his voice small and pleading.

Severus ignored the question. "And did he give any indication of what vessels he would use?"

"No. No, that's all I know. Please, Severus," Slughorn pleaded. "Please, that's all. Don't ask me anything more."

Severus continued to stare at the older man for several long seconds before nodding. He believed Slughorn. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve, and pointed it at Slughorn, who nearly fell over in his desperate haste to move away.

" _Obliviate_."

-DVDVDV-

Horace Slughorn looked down at the broken glass of mead with dismay. "Oh my word, how clumsy of me. That's what I get for trying to replicate that game-winning swerve of dear Gwenog's," he said with a chuckle. " _Reparo_. _Scourfiy_ ," he cast. "I'll just grab myself another. Won't be a minute," he assured Severus.

A/N: Please review!


	72. Chapter 72

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 72**

"Detention, Weasley and Weasley!" Snape snarled, surveying the twins, who were standing just outside Umbridge's office, covered from head to toe in bright pink slime. Fred figured that they should have added some more porcupine quills to prevent the mixture from exploding so early, and thereby not gotten caught. "And thirty points from Gryffindor!"

"But –" began George.

"I do not want to hear it. My office, now!"

Snape stalked off, leaving the slime-covered twins to follow, dripping, in his wake. He opened his office door with an angry bang, and swept it closed again with a wave of his hand. "Stand there," he hissed. Fred guessed that he did not want to get his pristine office contaminated. "Well? What moronic explanation could you two imbeciles possibly have for this?"

Fred glanced briefly at George, who nodded. _Snape's one of the good guys. Sort of._ Fred spoke in a rush, "She's torturing the students!"

"What, exactly, has she done?" he asked, voice low and menacing.

The twins took a step back. "A blood quill," Fred said.

"And you felt that the appropriate response was to cover her office in this?" he sneered, gesturing at the slime. "You do realize that Umbridge no doubt has permission from the Minister to use a blood quill?"

"Well, yeah," George said with a shrug.

"That's why we did it," Fred added. "We can't just do _nothing_."

"Gryffindors," he spat. "Of course you could. Do you have any sense of self-preservation? Do you ever stop and think about the repercussions of your actions? No, of course not," he sneered. "That would require _thinking_ , something that I am convinced none of you are capable of. Next time, give the affected students some murtlap essence and be done with it."

Fred exchanged another look with George. _Slytherins. There's no way he'll understand. So much for hoping the man who invented the potion that dyed Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Moody bright blue would have a secret respect for pranking worthy targets. He might have made the potion, but Mordred clearly is the one with a sense of humor._

"Yes, sir," Fred said.

"Won't happen again," George added.

 _We won't get caught next time._

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "I truly cannot fathom what you have against your Head of House," he said scathingly.

"What?" Fred asked, indignantly. _McGonagall is a strict old bird, but a decent sort for all of that._

"McGonagall?" George exclaimed at the same time. "We were going after Umbridge!"

" _Headmistress_ McGonagall," Snape corrected. "Ten point from Gryffindor for disrespect. What do think will happen when Umbridge reports to the Ministry and the Board of Governors that Professor McGonagall cannot maintain order while acting as interim headmistress?" Snape asked, voice low and furious. "That students do not respect authority while she runs the school?"

"Umbridge wants to be headmistress?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Remarkable," Snape sneered. "They can be taught. _Yes_ , you fool. And unless you rein in your propensity for mayhem, she may yet get her wish."

 _Well_ , Fred decided, _we can't let that happen._ George seemed to feel the same way. _But a mayhem-free school year would suck all the fun out of life. Besides, we need this time for advertising and market research! No point coming back to Hogwarts if we can't do something productive._

"Wait, you want –"

"Headmistress McGonagall to be in charge?" Fred made sure to include her title. _No sense in letting Snape take too many points from Gryffindor._

"Given the alternatives, _yes_ ," Snape hissed. "As should anyone with an ounce of sense. Which you two obviously _lack_. You can report to Filch at seven for your detentions. Now get out of my sight."

Fred and George hurried out. After a quick shower, they had a quiet discussion in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, interrupted only by Lavender Brown's excited cry of "That's so romantic!" Turning their heads to look, they saw her and Parvati Patil giggling next to a blushing Hermione, who tried, unsuccessfully, to wave them off.

"He really reserved the _entire_ tea shop? That is _so_ sweet!" Parvati squealed. She sighed dramatically. "I wish Justin would do something like that for me."

"What are you going to wear?" Lavender asked eagerly. At Hermione's embarrassed shrug, she giggled and said, "You have to figure something out soon! Hogsmeade weekend's only ten days away. We can help." At this, Parvati nodded excitedly. Hermione did not look enthused by their offer.

Fred and George turned back to one another with a shrug. _Looks like little Ronnie's out of luck. There's no way a girl would chose him over Krum._ They returned to their previous discussion. At last, minds set, they stood and shot red and gold sparks from their wands, gathering everyone's attention.

"Guys –" Fred began.

"And girls –" George added.

"We have a reluctant announcement to make. I'm not sure you were aware –"

"Since we weren't until just now –"

"But our behavior reflects directly on McGonagall's chances of becoming headmistress permanently. As such, we must sadly announce –"

"Our temporary retirement," George finished.

There were cries of shock from the students assembled in the common room. Then a few began to chuckle. Soon, the entire common room was laughing. _They think it's a joke_ , Fred realized.

"We mean it," he said. "We don't want the toad in charge."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

Fred nodded seriously. "She's the other main contender. Anything that makes it look like McGonagall's not fully in charge – including giving Umbridge what she deserves – will hurt her chances. And while we might love a good prank –"

"And giving toads what's coming to them –"

"We're loyal Gryffindors."

There were some more mutterings, but the consensus was clear. No one wanted Umbridge in charge. If even the Weasley twins could call for a halt to pranking, everyone could.

"How'd you find out?" Harry asked them a few minutes later, once the conversation had died down.

"Snape," George whispered back. At Ron's expression, he laughed. "Yeah, we couldn't believe it, either. But I guess he hates Umbridge as much as we do."

"I'm surprised he said anything," Hermione said softly. "I'd have thought he'd be in the running."

"What?" Ron asked, startled.

"Well, he is a Head of House," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "And Lucius Malfoy's on the Board of Governors again, so . . . ." she trailed off.

"He'd get the Death Eater vote," Fred finished. "Damn, he must _really_ like McGonagall more than we thought."

"Or he doesn't want to turn the school into a Death Eater training camp," Hermione offered, biting her lip nervously. "I mean, even if he didn't _want_ to torture the students, You-Know-Who'd probably expect it, wouldn't he?"

Fred nodded seriously. "Well, we can't let that happen. So let's all be model students, yeah?"

"Merlin, I feel like Percy," George muttered gloomily.

-DVDVDV-

The following days saw a remarkable decrease in the amount of student-wrought mayhem. There were some minor incidents, mainly confined to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but nothing like what the school had seen previously. At first, the staff thought it was simply the standard ebb and flow of student activity. Then, they decided that the Weasley twins must be planning something major. Eventually, they shrugged it off, deciding not to question their sudden good fortune. Only Severus Snape guessed what had caused the change in behavior. At the end of first week of peace, as he privately called it, he inclined his head in a brief – and utterly deniable – gesture of appreciation in the direction of the Weasley twins, who grinned cheekily back.

Coincidentally, Dolores Umbridge started to feel slightly under the weather around this point. Severus shook his head in mild surprise. The slow, untraceable poison he had begun dosing her with once he learned about the blood quill normally took another few days to begin manifesting symptoms. _Umbridge must have an unusually weak resistance to it. Such a pity._

A/N: Please review!


	73. Chapter 73

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 73**

"This place is vile," Viktor said softly, glancing around at the gaudy, pink interior of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop with no small amount of disgust. "It vill be no loss if the Death Eaters destroy it."

Hermione snorted nervously in agreement. She felt extraordinarily tense, like all of her pre-exam nerves had been magnified into one massive, concentrated dose. Walking through Hogsmeade with hordes of Hogwarts students – and some Hogsmeade residents – staring at them as they passed had not helped. At least Viktor was more adept than Harry at brushing past people who only cared about him for his fame. "So, how have you been, Viktor?" she asked, a little too loudly. She just wished the Death Eaters would come, the sooner for it to be over.

He seemed to understand that she wanted everything to appear normal. Even with his generally stoic demeanor, Hermione could tell that he felt as tense as she did. "Vell, training has been very hard lately. The coaches vere very upset that ve did not qualify beyond the semi-finals this year. I am just glad that I was allowed time off to come and visit you, Her-my-oh-nee." He said her name very slowly, emphasizing each syllable carefully. He smiled proudly at her expression. It was the first time he had managed to pronounce her name correctly. "I have been practicing," he admitted. She smiled.

Madam Puddifoot, a stout woman with a shiny black bun, bustled out from the back of the shop. "What can I get you two dears?" she asked, simpering slightly.

"Tea," Viktor said.

"And for me as well, please," Hermione added.

"Oh, of course. Won't be a minute, and then I'll leave you two lovebirds be."

After she bustled back off, Hermione muttered, "She reminds me of one of my professors this year, only less evil." Louder, she asked, "How's your transfiguration project going?"

Viktor smiled. "It is going vell. I appreciate your assistance vith the arithmancy. I think if ve cross-link the tangential framework –"

He was interrupted as the doors to the tea shop banged open, revealing three masked and cloaked Death Eaters. Outside, Hermione could hear people screaming in fear. The Death Eaters entered the room, and the one in the middle removed her mask to reveal the madly grinning face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Ooh, it's itty bitty Potter's brains," Bellatrix said, cackling madly. She pointed her wand at Hermione, who froze. "Where is itty bitter Potter, Brains?" she asked in a faux baby voice.

Viktor rose from his chair, slowly reaching for his wand. "Leave us," he growled. "Ve vant nothing to do with you."

"Oh, is the baby Gryffindor a damsel needing rescue?" Bellatrix asked, and then laughed again. She turned to one of the masked Death Eaters. "Not a lion but a lamb, Dolly." Turning back to Hermione, she said, "Not very nice, Brains, cheating on your boyfriend with Muscles here."

Hermione spat at her.

"Oh, does Brains want to play?" With sudden slash of her wand, the gaudy vase of flowers on the table exploded. Hermione gave a slight shriek and jumped back, nearly falling out of her chair as she stood. She raised her wand.

One of the masked Death Eaters laughed and flicked his wand. Hermione hissed as a stinging hex hit her hand, causing her to drop her wand in surprised reflex. The Death Eater then strode over and pinned her arms behind her back.

" _Relashio!"_ Viktor cried, directing the spell at the legs of the man holding her. The man raised a shield to block the cutting hex from hitting his legs. _I hope Master Snape was right about this being safe._

Bellatrix waved her wand at Krum, and he was hurled into the wall. Skipping slightly, she went over to where he lay slumped and withdrew a long silver knife from her pocket. Kneeling beside the dazed seeker, she tapped the flat of the blade twice against Viktor's face. She then turned to look at Hermione. "Brains, tell us where Potter is, or Muscles here will be losing his."

"Leave him alone!" Hermione shouted. _Where were the reinforcements? Surely some of the people outside would be able to help._

In one smooth stroke, Bellatrix slashed Viktor's cheek with the knife. Hermione screamed. "Try again, Brains," she taunted. "The ears are next."

"Stop! Harry's not here. Just let Viktor go! He has nothing to do with this!"

"Unhand my student!" a woman cried. Hermione was still pinned, but she recognized that voice. _Professor McGonagall's here!_

Bellatrix turned. "Oh, it's the kitty cat," she said, cackling. "Here, kitty, kitty." She stood and fired a blasting hex. Hermione struggled again against her captor, trying to see what happened. She caught a glimpse of a new gaping hole in the wall of the shop. Outside, Hermione could barely make out Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who had gathered a mass of Hogwarts students and formed a shimmering protective shield around them. Farther off, several Hogsmeade residents huddled together, watching fearfully. _Why aren't they helping?_ Although she could not see her from this angle, Hermione could hear Dolores Umbridge shrieking for aurors to arrive. Before she could take in more, the Death Eater twisted her back around.

" _Stupefy!_ " McGonagall cried, and the Death Eater holding her fell. Hermione scrambled free.

"No!" the other masked Death Eater shouted. " _Crucio!"_ McGonagall moved to the side, and the curse went wide.

He and Bellatrix began a furious duel with McGonagall. Hermione was proud to see that her Head of House was mostly holding her own against two Death Eaters, although she was obviously coming off worse for the encounter. After a minute of exchanged curses, she was covered in small cuts and bruises while her two opponents remained mostly unharmed.

Hermione dithered for a second, not sure if she would be of more use trying to heal Viktor or fighting the Death Eaters. _The Death Eaters are the bigger threat. If McGonagall falls, Viktor and I will be next._ Just in case she was still supposed to be stalling, Hermione sent a jelly-legs jinx at Bellatrix, who dodged. The movement seemed to cause her _reducto_ curse aimed at McGonagall to miss badly. It flew past her, hitting the ground right in front of the still-shrieking Umbridge. The earth exploded, splattering her pink cardigan in mud and small bits of shrapnel. "Help Krum!" McGonagall said, before shooting a silent spell at the masked Death Eater, who crumpled to the floor.

Hermione darted over to her boyfriend, who was watching the fight with glazed eyes. She guessed that he had a concussion. Fumbling in her robes, she pulled out a handkerchief and began pressing it to his cheek. It was bleeding considerably, but looked mostly superficial despite that. _Don't head wounds always bleed a lot?_

There was a telltale _crack_ of apparation, and suddenly Voldemort stood in the ruins of the tea shop. Hermione's scream was echoed by those of the watching crowd. Voldemort raised his wand in a long, pale-fingered hand. " _Luminastra,"_ he said, his cold, high-pitched voice carrying even over the shrieks as he cast a spell unfamiliar to Hermione. There was a flash of blinding white light, and the sound of a body killing the floor. She blinked, desperately trying to get the spots out of her vision. When her vision finally cleared, what she saw terrified her. McGonagall had collapsed to the ground. Hermione could barely see her chest rise and fall. _Thank God. She's still breathing._

"Where is Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"Master, forgive me!" Bellatrix wailed, falling to her knees. "He was not here!"

"I am very disappointed in you, Bellatrix. My Death Eatersss were to bring Potter to me. Instead, I find you playing with a school teacher and two children."

"But, my Lord, his girlfriend is here!" Bellatrix added hastily.

"Oh?" Voldemort turned towards her, and Hermione's heart raced as those empty crimson eyes fell upon her. He strode over.

And tripped.

"You dare!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare cast a tripping hex on the Dark Lord!" _What? No, I didn't! I wish I had, though!_ Bellatrix slashed her wand, and Hermione felt an invisible force push her back against the wall.

Voldemort righted himself. "Thank you, Bella, but I think I can handle the mudblood's further lessonssss in mannersss," he hissed coldly.

"Of course, my Lord. My apologies, my Lord," Bellatrix simpered.

Voldemort reached Hermione, and grabbed her face with his long fingers. They felt surprisingly warm to the touch.

"No," Viktor groaned. "Leave her alone, you monster." He tried to rise, but fell back against the wall.

With a sudden flash of flame, Dumbledore appeared, a magnificent red and gold phoenix on his shoulder. He swiftly glanced around the room, and his expression hardened as he took in the scene. An intense aura of power swelled around him. It was suffocating in its intensity, and yet Hermione found herself breathing easier for it.

"Unhand my student, Tom," he said, raising his wand.

Voldemort released his grip on her. He turned towards Dumbledore. " _Sancto serpens!"_ he cried. A pool of black smoke erupted from his wand and shaped itself into the form of a great serpent. Voldemort hissed something, and the snake slithered in the air towards Dumbledore. He coughed, but with a silent wave of his own wand, he banished the smoke.

"No!" Bellatrix shouted. " _Avada kedavra!"_ A jet of green light shot out of her wand. Fawkes flew into its path, reaching it long before it could hit Dumbledore. The phoenix burst into flame, emerging as a tiny chick.

With a roar of frustration, Voldemort reached out and grabbed the unconscious form of the Death Eater who had pinned Hermione earlier. With a loud _crack_ , the two of them vanished.

"Master!" Bellatrix cried, even as Dumbledore raised his wand to her. She barely managed to dodge as a silent red beam of light flew towards her. Taking hold of the other unconscious Death Eater's arm, she vanished in another _crack_ of apparation.

As soon as they left, the watching, useless crowd surged forward.

A/N: Please review!


	74. Chapter 74

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 74**

 _YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNS, ATTACKS HOGSMEADE!_

 _BULGARIAN MINISTRY OF MAGIC PLEDGES SUPPORT_

 _October 3, 1995_

 _Hogsmeade – In a scene witnessed by dozens of Hogsmeade residents and over one hundred Hogwarts students, You-Know-Who appeared in Hogsmeade village late Saturday morning._

 _Three of his Death Eaters, led by Bellatrix Lestrange, attacked Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger as they enjoyed a romantic meal in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. According to witnesses, the Death Eaters questioned the two about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived._

 _"_ _Miss Granger refused to cooperate, and her young man defended her. It was terribly gallant of him," Madam Puddifoot said, standing amid the wreckage of her now-unrecognizable establishment. "The Death Eaters started hurting them, then, and I was terrified that they'd kill the two lovebirds. Goodness knows what would have happened if the headmistress hadn't shown up."_

 _"_ _Minerva told the rest of us teachers to defend the students," Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House, reported. "She then ran off to help Miss Granger and Mister Krum."_

 _Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall dueled Bellatrix Lestrange and another unknown Death Eater for several minutes. Despite the uneven odds, she was beginning to triumph when You-Know-Who himself appeared. He cast an unknown spell that blinded several observers and rendered McGonagall unconscious._

 _"_ _I thought, that's it, we're done for," Puddifoot said. "I'd never been so scared in all my life. And then Dumbledore appeared with that phoenix of his! You-Know-Who conjured this terrible snake made of smoke, but Dumbledore managed to counter it. My heart was racing so fast, I thought it would burst! But he managed to drive You-Know-Who off. Thank Merlin he came."_

 _In a stunning reversal from the Ministry of Magic, which just yesterday persisted in stating that there was no truth to the rumors that You-Know-Who was back, Minister Cornelius Fudge said, "In the light of the return of Lord – well, You-Know-Who, we at the Ministry are putting forth every effort to stop him. It, er, seems that Harry Potter might have been right after all."_

 _The Bulgarian Minister of Magic offered his country's support. "This is the second time that Viktor Krum has been targeted by these extremists. First, he was placed under the_ imperius _curse by a disguised Death Eater during the Triwizard Tournament. Now, he is attacked directly by this group. Mister Krum is one of our citizens. He was the Durmstarng champion and is our foremost representative on the quidditch world stage. If the Death Eaters think that they can target him, then they shall learn that Bulgaria does not tolerate dark wizards."_

 _Following this statement, Bulgaria loaned Britain the services of twenty aurors and thirty hit wizards._

 _See pages 2-3 for more eyewitness accounts from Hogsmeade residents._

Severus put down the special evening edition of _The Daily Prophet_ , which was dominated by a huge picture of a snarling Tonks-as-Voldemort casting the smoke snake spell at Dumbledore. Despite himself, he was impressed with Colin Creevey's initiative. It would doubtless get the foolish boy killed one day, but for now, his audacity in taking a picture of the "duel" served them very well.

All in all, it had gone even better than Severus had expected. When he suggested that they target Krum and Granger, he had hoped that international pressure from the Bulgarians would force Fudge to admit to the Dark Lord's return. He had never anticipated that they would go so far as to offer their resources. _Who would have expected quidditch mania to work in our favor?_

Moreover, no one had been seriously hurt, which was always a concern even in a staged fight. Krum and Granger's injuries were easily treated. McGonagall would need to remain in the hospital wing for the next two days as she recovered from the temporary blindness spell that Severus had invented, but she would make a full recovery. Of course, Severus fully expected the Dark Lord to torture him for the day's events, even if he managed to successfully hide his part in – and foreknowledge of – the deception. It scarcely mattered. He would be dead soon enough regardless, and the reward had proven worth the risk.

Dumbledore had strongly disapproved of the plan, arguing that honesty would serve them better in the long run. Gellert had simply given him an incredulous look before bursting into laughter. Even so, Dumbledore had refused to participate in the deception.

To their surprise, Bill Weasley had volunteered.

Severus had mixed feelings about the eldest Weasley. He had been a Gryffindor during Severus's first year teaching, and had been a student during his own school days. Weasley therefore remembered the Marauders' treatment of him. While he was not as obnoxious in class as some of his yearmates, he certainly did nothing to endear himself to the new professor. Since joining the Order of the Phoenix, though, he had at least been relatively civil to Severus.

And Bill Weasley was a cursebreaker who specialized in runes. He held Gellert in an odd mix of awe and trepidation.

He had stood up to Dumbledore.

With a third "Death Eater" recruited for the raid, Gellert would be free to polyjuice himself as Dumbledore. Before a small audience at Grimmauld Place, he demonstrated exactly how he would go about impersonating his former lover, including exactly what he would say to the press given the opportunity. The caricature had been almost too accurate, and had been yet another blow to Dumbledore's aura of grandfatherly omniscience among the Order. Severus smirked at the memory. Faced with the choice between an all-too convincing impostor and appearing as himself, Dumbledore had reluctantly yielded to the inevitable and agreed to assist with the deception. Bill Weasley would instead observe from a safe distance nearby, ready to step in should the situation begin to escalate out of control.

Severus wondered if the heroic stand in Hogsmeade, and the "proof" that he had been telling the truth all along about Voldemort's return, would result in Dumbledore being offered any of his old positions back. Nothing had yet been mentioned in the _Prophet_ , and Severus could only hope that the man's supposed role in Grindelwald's escape from Nurmengard would continue to damage his political standing.

Severus surveyed the Great Hall. The room was buzzing with excited students who were discussing the Hogsmeade attack with one another. Every so often, someone would point to McGonagall's empty chair at the staff table.

Granger entered the Great Hall, flanked by Potter, who was rubbing his scar absently, and Weasley. As she came into view, the Gryffindor table rose and gave her a standing ovation. A moment later, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables joined in. Severus, glancing significantly at the Slytherins, stood from his seat with the rest of the staff and clapped slowly and very briefly, before sitting again. _Our House has a bad enough reputation as it is, and you may need plausible deniability someday._

After a stunned moment, the Slytherins stood and applauded as well. As they did, Severus felt the Dark Mark on his left arm burn. The Dark Lord was summoning him.

A/N:

For those wondering, the roles in the previous chapter were:

Voldemort – Tonks

Bellatrix Lestrange – Severus (as Mordred – he met up with the others already disguised as Bellatrix to preserve his secret identity)

Rodolphus Lestrange ("Dolly" – the one who grabbed Hermione) – Shacklebolt

Unknown Death Eater (the one who cast _crucio_ at McGonagall) – Gellert

Everyone else appeared as themselves.

Why this division of roles? Tonks got an out by using two unknown, flashy spells that were actually fairly harmless, but the group needed to cast some Unforgiveables to sell the act. Only Severus and Gellert were comfortable doing this. Shacklebolt grabbed Hermione and was the first to get knocked out so it wouldn't seem odd that a Death Eater wasn't casting anything dark.

And in case it wasn't clear, Severus always meant to hit Fawkes with the killing curse, not Dumbledore.

Please review!


	75. Chapter 75

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 75**

Severus apparated to the large ballroom. Four other Death Eaters were already present. Two knelt on the floor before the Dark Lord, who sat upon his marble throne. The other two lay on the ground, twitching. Severus assumed his position in the small circle and knelt respectfully.

"What happened, Severusss?" Voldemort hissed.

"My Lord?" Severus asked, feigning confusion. He fell back as, with a slash of his wand, Voldemort cast a silent hex at him. It felt like a hard blow to the face, but from prior experience, Severus knew it would leave no mark. He carefully resumed his kneeling posture. The Dark Lord demanded respect, but loathed weakness.

"In Hogsmeade," Voldemort said.

"My Lord, I was not present at the time of your appearance. Had I known you would be there, I –"

"Silence!" Severus immediately ceased speaking. "Luciusss, Goyle, leave us. And take these two worthless excusesss for wizardsss with you." The two kneeling men rose unsteadily to their feet. Each grabbed one of the Death Eaters still on the ground and apparated away.

"I was not present in Hogsmeade, Severusss. It seemsss that someone has seen fit to impersonate me. You are fortunate, my pet, that I have taken stepsss to prevent anyone from using polyjuice. Otherwise I would wonder about my potionsss master."

Severus did not react to the implicit threat. Slowly, as if thinking through possibilities, Severus asked, "My Lord, do you suspect the same culprit as the one who framed Dumbledore in Grindelwald's escape from Nurmengard?"

Voldemort suddenly laughed his cold, high-pitched laugh. "Yesss, of course." He rose from his throne and strode over to Severus, removing his mask. He gently cupped Severus's chin with one hand, tilting his head so that their eyes met. Voldemort stared down at him, but for once, he did not use legilimency. Instead, he seemed to be looking for something in the eyes themselves. _A sign of his horcrux, perhaps?_ Whatever he saw must have satisfied him. He laughed again, cold and high, but seemingly pleased. He hissed something in parseltongue. When Severus did not react, Voldemort's mirth faded.

"Of course," Voldemort said again, but softly now, as if to himself. "Yesss, I should have foreseen that possibility." He released his hand from Severus's face, and then returned to his throne, still speaking as if to himself. "Could it be Bellatrix? But no, Luciusss claimsss his son saw her at the event, for all that she seemsss to have no memory of it. Polyjuice, or did my counterpart _obliviate_ her afterwardsss? Perhaps her husband, if he drank from the cup? But its propertiesss are not the same."

Severus kept his expression neutral, even as he smiled inwardly. Unless he was much mistaken, Voldemort had just revealed that he had given Hufflepuff's Cup to Bellatrix Lestrange.

-DVDVDV-

After he dismissed his pet from his presence, Voldemort called for Nagini. The great snake slithered into the room and coiled herself around her master's feet. She rested her head in his lap, and Voldemort began to stroke her head absently.

His earlier rage had faded. He had been furious when he learned that someone had dared to impersonate him, had upset his careful plans by revealing his existence so early. And then he had summoned Severus, and, as usual, the potions master had soothed his temper. Alone of all his followers, he had cut to the heart of the matter. It was clear, now, what had happened.

 ** _"_** ** _I should have considered it before, Nagini,"_** he hissed in parseltongue. **_"I was blinded by the belief that by blocking polyjuice, I could block any and all who sought to become me. I forget, sometimes, that there are other explanations."_**

Fortunately, the fiery glint in his pet's black eyes had reminded him. He might have wasted so much time trying to determine where his careful precautions went wrong, when, in truth, the explanation was so much simpler. He should have considered it before now. One of his horcruxes was loose in the world.

 ** _"_** ** _I wonder, Nagini, if it was I who framed Dumbledore. Does my other self have an alliance with Grindelwald? But if so, why would I have killed Nott? Or could Nott's death be the fault of Black alone, as Severus believes? Or is yet another force at play?"_**

He did not know why his soul fragment had not announced itself to him, so that they could plan and plot together. But he trusted it to have a reason. After all, if he could not trust himself, whom could he trust?

 _But which horcrux is it? The diary is gone, and none can reach the locket without succumbing to my inferi or that lovely potion of Severus's. The diadem is safe at Hogwarts. None could find it there. The ring or the cup, then._ He would need to check them to confirm, of course.

It _was_ surprising, though, that one of his horcruxes could assume his form. The diary had been intended to drain the essence of its victim, bringing Voldemort's sixteen-year-old body to life. He had intended it as a safety measure, in the event that age sapped his physical body's strength before he managed to extend his youth. His other horcruxes should simply kill their victims. Some, like the ring, would do so quickly, while others manipulated their victims' actions in Voldemort's favor while slowly killing them, sapping their strength and adding it to his own considerable reservoir of power. All but his last horcrux. It, alone of all his masterpieces, would allow its wielder to survive. Survive, but not remain unchanged.

He smiled coldly at Nagini. He had nearly made her his final horcrux. _A foolish decision that would have been. A waste of resources._

Severus was definitely coming along well. It was clear that he had not yet embraced the Rod of Paracelsus, but he was wavering. Voldemort could see it in his black eyes. Every so often, a hint of fire would flare in them. With each summons, the rare flashes grew brighter. In a way, he was proud of his pet for holding out for so long, especially as it was clear from his legilimency probes that Severus _was_ actively using the Rod. It spoke of a strong will, a strong mind, not to have succumbed to it yet. _But he will accept it eventually. He will take up its strength, my strength, and he will become truly worthy of my favor._

He _was_ growing impatient, though. He decided that he would _crucio_ Severus properly at his next summons. It would not do to torture his pet every time, but he grew tired of waiting for the inevitable. Severus would need to accept his horcrux to save himself.

 _And he will accept it. After all, the only alternative is certain death. And who would not do anything to continue living?_

-DVDVDV-

Hufflepuff's Cup remained safe in Bellatrix's vault. The Gaunt ring was secure in the family hovel. Ravenclaw's Diadem he could not check, but he felt certain it was still hidden in the room at Hogwarts that only he was clever enough to have found.

The locket was gone. A fake had been left in its place.

Well, at least he now knew what had befallen Regulus Black. He had been a traitor after all. The fool had stolen his precious locket in a futile attempt to destroy it, only to have been destroyed himself. And somehow, fifteen years later, it appeared that someone else had found it and awoken the fragment of his precious soul.

A/N: Please review!


	76. Chapter 76

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 76**

"Tonks! Tonks! Tonks!" the assembled Order members chanted. The young auror blushed at the attention.

"To the finest, bravest, craziest metamorphmagus in the world! The only person willing enough – and capable enough – to frame You-Know-Who himself!" toasted Bill Weasley. He raised his glass. "To Tonks!" He drank. The others followed suit.

"I don't see how you missed out on Gryffindor, with courage like that," Sirius Black enthused. After weeks of sulking, he had eventually bounced back to his normal good humor, trying to win the others over with his charm. It had proven only partially successful. Even now, his presence was only barely tolerated, and his reception remained chilly. For her part, Tonks would have preferred to have him still brooding up in the attic.

Tonks turned coldly to him. She suddenly wished this party were in the Penitant Damned's hotel room in Cardiff, not Grimmauld Place. She had no desire to deal with her reckless idiot of a cousin. "I beg your pardon? 'Missed out?' Is there something _wrong_ with Hufflepuff?" She knew damn well what the other Houses thought of Hufflepuff. _Never mind that the Hogwarts Triwizard champion had been Cedric Diggory. No, the only one the newspaper cared about was Harry Potter. He's a decent enough kid, if a bit moody, but my House deserved better._

"What? No, of course not! There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, not like Slytherin or anything. I just meant –" Sirius backtracked hastily, absently rubbingd the dog collar around his neck with one hand.

"You Gryffindors think you have a monopoly on courage. As if somehow that's the only virtue," Tonks interrupted, unwilling to let him off the hook. She felt her hair shift from pink to a furious red as she spoke. "I'm an auror. And, yeah, I'm a Hufflepuff. I work hard, I'm loyal. I value fair play. But the idea that only Gryffindors are brave is bollocks. It's like saying only Ravenclaws are smart.

"And as for Slytherin, yeah, they've got a bad rep these days. But it's not like they're _all_ evil. My _mum's_ a Slytherin, in case you've forgotten. Married a Hufflepuff muggleborn. Hell, take a look at that family tree of yours. Potter's grandmother was a Black, your second cousin or something, and _she_ was a Slytherin. And don't forget the head of the auror office, he's a Slytherin, too. Whatever else you might think of him, Scrimgeur's a damn good auror.

"But look around! You've gone and recruited what, a bare handul of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws into your little secret society? And all the rest are Gryffindors. I bet that feeds your egos, doesn't it? The great Gryffindor club with their sidekicks from the lesser Houses. But how much have you lot actually _done_?

"Now, if you were the only representative of Gryffindor, I'd say your House isn't particularly intelligent, loyal, _or_ cunning. Not much to recommend it. Fortunately, I've met some decent Gryffindors, so I know better than to judge them all based on _you_." Rant finished, she turned away from Sirius and back to the others, who stared at her in stunned silence. After a moment, Shacklebolt raised his glass to her in a silent toast of approval. There were a few nervous chuckles, and some of the others followed suit. Tonks shook her head. "Bill, Remus, feel like getting a drink someplace else? I'm finding the atmosphere here a bit oppressive. Kingsley, still got some polyjuice leftover from earlier? If not, I bet we can transfigure something so no one'll recognize you, especially if we go out into muggle London."

-DVDVDV-

Albus had to admit that he was impressed. In a little over one month, the Penitant Damned had learned the number of Voldemort's horcruxes, secured one, and gotten a major lead on the location of a second. They had even managed to convince the wizarding world that Lord Voldemort had returned.

 _I should have told the Damned my suspicions about the horcruxes sooner. If Severus did not know to pay attention to any references to a cup, would we even know about the horcrux likely entrusted to Bellatrix Lestrange? How many leads did we lose because I was so unwilling to share what I knew?_

The Order of the Phoenix could boast that they had assisted. Nymphadora Tonks had, after all, come up with the idea to frame Voldemort. She had had the starring role.

 _But they know that I opposed the plan, even if I took part in the end. The Damned championed it. They came up with the particulars._

 _And for all that Tonks and Kingsley are still officially members of the Order, it is clear that their sympathies and loyalties are now more closely aligned with the Damned._

The Order's other contributions to the war effiort were, alas, not overly impressive. They had guarded the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Although Minerva relayed Severus's reports that Voldmort continued to seek the prophecy, there had been no skirmishes yet at the Ministry, no attempts – either covert or overt – to seek entry. Guard duty had become a byword for dull, sleepless nights. They had tracked the movements of known Death Eaters at the Ministry, but they all seemed to be keeping to harmless activities for now.

And, of course, they had caused an otherwise well-planned raid on Darius Nott's home to fall apart disastrously.

 _Is it any wonder, then, why so many now look to the Damned for guidance?_

Albus had still been answering questions from the Ministry and the press during the impromptu celebration at Grimmauld Place. Unfortunately, Gellert's escape from Nurmengard continued to cast its long shadow. The press had been far more interested in speaking with the quidditch star than the disgraced former leader. Once he had recovered from his concussion, Viktor Krum had agreed to an interview. In exchange, the _Prophet_ had promised not to reveal how Hermione Granger's remarkable burst of "accidental magic" had caused "Voldemort" to trip. _A remarkable young man. It is a relief that he could see how it would paint an even larger target on Miss Granger's back, especially as I was still unaware of that incident._

Given his mixed success in swinging popular opinion back in his favor, Albus wished that he had been at Grimmauld Place instead, wished he had had at least a _chance_ to diffuse the situation. The still-prevalent unhappiness with Sirius Black had morphed into unhappiness with supposed Gryffindor favoritism. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Ravenclaw, had taken the fall for Sirius Black, a Gryffindor. Nymphadora Tonks, a Hufflepuff, had come up with a successful way to convince the Ministry that Voldemort had returned. Albus Dumbledore, a Gryffindor, had opposed the plan, even if he later accepted it.

To her credit, Tonks did not paint all Gryffindors with the same brush as Sirius. She was close to Bill Weasley and, to a lesser extent, to Remus Lupin, although Albus had noticed that her budding interest in the werewolf had faltered in the face of his continued apologies on Sirius's behalf. Albus wondered if they, too, would soon join the Penitant Damned, in spirit if not in name.

Even so, her words had gotten the others thinking, had gotten Albus himself to think. He mentally reviewed the number of Gryffindors in the Order, and compared it to the number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepufffs. Gryffindors far outnumbered the rest. _I should have recruited more from the other Houses._

For the first time, Albus overheard someone other than Severus Snape asking why no other Slytherins had been invited to join the Order of the Phoenix.

Albus sighed. There was little he could do about it now. He had lost his positions in government, both foreign and domestic. He had lost Hogwarts. He was losing his Order. And for that, at least, he suspected he had no one to blame but himself.

-DVDVDV-

"Fleur finally got a chance to check the Gringotts records, and she was able to find an inventory of the Lestrange vaults," Bill Weasley reported a week later. "She confirmed that there's a cup with badger symbol on it.

"Can you retrieve it?" Grindelwald asked.

Bill frowned. "Maybe. Not without losing my job and being marked for death by the goblins, though. So, no offense, but I'd rather not. Why's it so important?"

Bill felt a small probe brush against his occlumency shields. It pulled away quickly. Grindelwald gave an apologetic grin. "My apologies, but I needed to test your ability to keep information secure before I reveal any particulars. You are a cursebreaker, yes? Are you familiar with the term 'horcrux?'"

A/N: Please review!


	77. Chapter 77

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 77**

Breaking into Gringotts was out of the question. Gellert had agreed with Bill Weasley's objections. The young man was a thrill seeker, but that did not make him suicidal. Gellert felt slightly disappointed that the curse-breaker was not familiar with horcruxes, as it meant that he would not know alternative means of destroying them. Severus was still having difficulty locating a supplier of basilisk parts.

Once Weasley recovered from his shocked horror at the explanation of what horcruxes entailed, Gellert said, "Given this, it is, obviously, essential that we obtain and destroy this object. If we cannot break into your place of employment, is there anything we can offer the goblins in exchange?"

The curse-breaker's forehead crinkled in thought. _He really is a very attractive young man_ , Gellert thought. He shook his head slightly, ashamed of himself. _He is even younger than Severus._

"It might be possible," Weasley said slowly. "Goblins are very keen on having their artifacts returned to them. Anything goblin-made that wizards buy is really rented, as far as they're concerned. Once the wizard dies, the goblins feel that the items should be returned to the people who crafted it. If we could offer some major goblin-wrought artifacts, they might consider trading it for the cup. But it'd have to be some pretty important objects, _and_ it's only remotely possible since the Lestranges are wanted fugitives at the moment, and thus aren't covered by the terms of the Treaty of 1708."

Gellert nodded. "Thank you, Mister Weasley. You have been most helpful. It seems that we and our respective associates shall need to compile a list of any and all goblin-made artifacts in our possession."

"Please, sir, call me Bill. There are enough of us that 'Mister Weasley' is likely to get confusing. And my great-aunt has a tiara. I doubt it'd be enough in and of itself, even if we can somehow convince her to give it up, but it might do for a start."

"Bill, then. Thank you," Gellert said, smiling charmingly. "And you must, of course, call me Gellert. It is, after all, only fair."

-DVDVDV-

Minerva settled herself in her office chair. Pomfrey had finally released her from the hospital wing, and she was now facing the task of catching up on a week's worth of paperwork. She was about to get started when she heard a knock on her door.

"Enter," she said, and Severus Snape stalked in. "Have a seat, Severus." He did, and then cast his usual series of privacy charms.

"You are recovered?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "That blinding spell of yours was suitably nasty, though. I thought it was only supposed to last a few days?"

He shrugged. "She likely overpowered it. There was no lasting damage. It would have been far more suspicious if there were no noteworthy injuries. And it has only improved your public standing, which should prove advantageous with the Board of Governors' still-pending decision."

Minerva conceded the point with a nod. "I take it that is not why you are here?"

He snorted. "Hardly. Have you found an occlumency instructor for Potter yet?"

Minerva sighed. "No. Horace only has basic shields, and Filius apparently relied on some quirk of his goblin ancestry to keep his thoughts hidden when he was still on the dueling circuit."

Snape did not look surprised. "In that case, I have been asked to relay this to you." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a sealed envelope. He handed it to Minerva. She opened it, and read the short contents, which were written in beautiful calligraphy.

 _"_ _Headmistress McGonagall,_

 _"_ _Given the need for Mister Potter to learn occlumency, Mordred and I are volunteering our services. Hellspawn has assured us that he can bring either of us into your school without being seen, and we can ingest polyjuice so as to hide our identities from undesired eyes._

 _"_ _I recommend that the young man choose whichever of us he feels more comfortable with, as learning the art of occlumency can be a very intrusive process. Also, assuming you are amenable to the offer of instruction, Mister Potter will need to surrender his map should he choose to study under my associate. Mordred has a right to privacy. Mister Potter should understand what this means._

 _"_ _Yours most sincerely,_

 _"_ _Gellert Grindelwald"_

Minerva smiled slightly in relief. "Thank you, Severus. I will speak with Mister Potter about this at once, and we can begin making the necessary arrangements. Was there anything else?"

"Yes. I could not report to you while you were in the infirmary, but I was summoned shortly after the incident. Lord Grindelwald should have passed my information along to the Order, but we have determined that Bellatrix Lestrange has Hufflepuff's Cup in her Gringotts vault." Minerva's eyes widened. "Bill Weasley believes that the goblins might be willing to trade for it, provided we can offer sufficient goblin-wrought objects that are currently in wizarding possession. We are compiling a list of all those owned by the Order or the Damned."

"That is fantastic news, Severus." She paused, thinking. "I do not have anything that would qualify, but my second cousin once boasted that she had a goblin-made dagger. I might be able to persuade her to sell it to me."

He smirked. "Do not forget the Sword of Gryffindor."

"What?"

"It _is_ goblin-made," Snape noted. "And, as acting headmistress, you are the de facto owner."

"It belongs to the school!" Minerva protested. "The last relic of one of our founders!"

"The Sorting Hat was also Godric Gryffindor's, as I recall," Snape drawled. "And, surely, the noble House of chivalry would not be so mean-spirited as to value a mere sword over the defeat of the Dark Lord."

Minerva flushed angrily. "You would not say that if it were Salazar Slytherin's!"

For a moment, Minerva could have sworn that Snape's eyes flashed red. An instant later, they returned to their habitual unreadable black. "We _are_ planning to destroy Slytherin's locket, are we not? And slay his last remaining descendent? Do not accuse me of placing House loyalty above the war effort, Minerva. It is not an argument that you are likely to win."

The anger drained from her as quickly as it had come. _How many of his Slytherins will join the Death Eaters? How many will die?_ "You're right, Severus. I spoke out of turn. Please, accept my apologies." He nodded curtly. "I will, of course, surrender the sword if there are no alternatives."

A/N: Please review!


	78. Chapter 78

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 78**

 _"_ _Tallentalegra!"_ Potter roared.

Draco leapt out of the way of the tap-dancing jinx and countered with a shout of _"furnunculus!"_ Potter scrambled backwards to avoid being hit, nearly running into Severus as he rounded a corner in the deserted hallway.

"What is the meaning of this?" Severus hissed.

"Potter attacked me, sir," Draco said immediately.

"Liar!" Potter retorted. "We attacked each other!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He had absolutely no interest in this ridiculous rivalry. It would have been different if either student were actually in any danger from the other, but they were fairly evenly matched and never strayed from basic hexes. None of the spells were even particularly embarrassing. It was just a case of two rival gangs, not bullying, and Severus simply could not bring himself to care beyond a vague bemusement at seeing Lucius and Narcissa's son act so Gryffindorish.

"Detention, Potter. With Filch." _I have no desire to waste my time supervising._ "And ten points from Gryffindor. Mister Malfoy, are you injured?"

"No, sir," Draco replied with a smirk.

"Then be on your way," Severus replied. Draco flashed Potter a triumphant grin, and then headed down the hall.

"That's not fair!" Potter said.

 _Neither is life. Get used to it._ "It is perfectly fair, Mister Potter. You yourself admitted to attacking Mister Malfoy." _And did you really think I would ever side with you over one of my Slytherins?_

"But he attacked me, too!" he protested. _And I'll give him a lecture later on the folly of picking fights with you now that you are back in the Ministry's good graces._

"Another detention, Potter, for questioning my decision. Continue to argue, and it will be a week." Potter's face flushed with anger. Despite the warning, he looked like he was about to protest again. "Enough, Potter! Control your temper," Severus snarled.

"Like you ever do," Potter retorted furiously. "I thought occlumency was supposed to help control your emotions!"

Severus felt himself grow pale as his annoyance was replaced by his own anger. In his mind's eye, he saw a flicker of fire. "You know nothing, fool," he hissed, voice barely above a whisper. "You have never seen me without my occlumency shields raised. Pray that you never do." Potter took an involuntary step back. Severus smirked. In his more normal tones, he said, "And that will be a week's worth of detention." Not bothering to glance back at the boy, he strode down the deserted hall, robes billowing about him in his wake.

-DVDVDV-

As the rush of adrenaline left him, Harry felt himself start shaking. He tried one of the breathing exercises that his occlumency book had suggested. _In and out, in and out._ It helped a bit, and Harry felt himself calm slightly. _Why didn't I try that_ before _mouthing off at Snape?_ He had been stupid to pick a fight with him. _Of course he would take Malfoy's side. He always did in the past. Just because he's trying to stop Voldemort, doesn't mean he's suddenly doing to become warm and fuzzy._ Harry snickered at the mental image of a caring, nurturing Snape.

At the end, though, Snape's eyes had been absolutely unnerving. Harry could have sworn that for an instant, they had blazed with actual flames. _And if he always is using occlumency around me, how bad is his temper_ without _his shields?_ That was actually pretty alarming, now that Harry thought about it. _Or is his anger just an act? Part of his role as a spy?_ If that was the case, it raised his estimation of Snape as a threat. _To have so much control that you can appear out of control._

Ever since he had spoken with Mordred back at Grimmauld Place, Harry's thoughts had been plagued with questions about relative morality. He had discussed his concerns with Ron and Hermione. Ron had shrugged them off, holding to the black and white Gryffindor viewpoints that Harry had so recently accepted as the simple truth. Hermione, though, had been much more intrigued. She seemed delighted by Harry's willingness to think about these questions, and had talked about various philosophical systems until his head felt fit to burst.

 _Can a bad person be a good guy? Can a dark wizard be a hero?_

He remembered something that Lupin had written in one of his letters. _"The world is not split into good people and Death Eaters." Umbridge was definitely evil, but she wasn't a Death Eater._ A terrible thought struck him. _What if the reverse is true?_

 _Could there be good people who are Death Eaters?_

 _Maybe Snape._

 _Except he's a spy. He isn't a Death Eater at all, not anymore. But he wasn't always a spy, was he? I've always asked why he left the Death Eaters. Maybe the better question is why he joined them in the first place._

 _He's a nasty, cruel, miserable person. He's almost certainly a dark wizard. But he's also brave and self-sacrificing. A hero._

Harry could not imagine how anyone with a conscience could join Voldemort. After Harry had demonstrated his willingness to consider philosophical topics, Hermione had tried to explain to him the historical causes of the war. She had said something about history being written by the victors. He had snapped at her angrily, shouting that anyone who was still a Death Eater after seeing what they were really like had to be evil. He had immediately felt ashamed of how hurt she had looked. He knew that she had been trying to help, that understanding the context would ultimately benefit him. He had awkwardly apologized to her.

He still felt terrible about it, though.

 _Snape was right. McGonagall was right. I need to control my temper._

He had a meeting with the headmistress scheduled for later that evening. _Maybe she's finally found someone who can teach me occlumency. I really need to learn. Not just because of Voldemort. I let my anger at Malfoy's taunts get the better of me just now, and then I stupidly mouthed off at Snape. I snapped at Hermione, and she had only been trying to help me understand the actual causes of this war._

Harry just hoped that McGonagall had found someone other than Snape who could teach him. Just because they were on the same side did not mean that they would ever get along.

A/N: Please review!


	79. Chapter 79

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 79**

"Detention again, Severus?" Minerva asked with a sigh. "That boy is going to spend more time in detention than out." She took a bite of her shepherd's pie.

"I caught him hexing one of my students," Snape replied equably. "Potter must learn to control his temper. The entire world does not revolve around his whims."

"Hmmm, hmmm," Umbridge interjected. Minerva and Snape reluctantly turned to look at her. "Now, I'm sure it's just the stress of being the young hero targeted by You-Know-Who. Surely, Severus, I could convince you to reduce his punishment?" Minerva almost choked as Umbridge batted her eyelashes at him in a ridiculous parody of winsome charm.

"Surely, Dolores, you do not advocate giving Potter preferential treatment?" Snape sneered. "He is a mediocre student who has survived this long solely due to his inexplicable luck. Allowing him to get away with assaulting a classmate would merely reinforce the idea that, as a celebrity, he is above the rules laid out for his and others' benefit."

"The Ministry would be most willing to commute his punishment to something more suitable," Umbridge insisted. _Like being a poster boy for Fudge,_ Minerva guessed. _As if Mister Potter would ever agree to such nonsense. He'd prefer detention._

"I doubt Lucius Malfoy would be pleased to hear that you are treating his son's attacker so leniently," Snape drawled.

Umbridge flushed angrily. Lucius Malfoy was not only one of the Hogwarts governors, but also one of Fudge's largest donors. She could not risk angering him.

"Now, Severus, boys will be boys, after all," Slughorn interjected. "The undersecretary has a point. Given his talents, surely scrubbing floors is beneath Harry's dignity."

 _Sycophants of the staff table unite_ , Minerva thought bitterly. She frowned at the thought. _I am spending far too much time with Severus_.

"Talents?" Snape sneered. "I was unaware he had any. Besides, the brat protests that he wishes to be treated as a normal student. I am simply acceding to his stated desire."

"You are being most uncooperative! The Minister will hear of this!" Umbridge threatened, gesturing angrily at him with her fork. She then winced, dropping it to her plate with a loud _clang_. Minerva caught a faint smirk flash briefly across Snape's face. _Oh, Merlin, he's the reason she's been complaining of joint pains. Did he poison her or hex her?_

 _Not that I'd be opposed to getting rid of her. Blood quills in detention! And Fudge just blustered that she had permission._

 _It just better not be anything fatal. Or anything that gets him caught._

Minerva coughed, trying to hide her reaction. She turned to Sprout in a clear indication that she considered the subject closed, even if she _did_ rather wish that Snape would be more even-handed in assigning detentions, and asked, "Pomona, I hear that your venomous tentaculas are blooming splendidly. Mind letting me take a look later this evening?"

Sprout beamed and readily agreed. A few blessedly peaceful minutes passed as they ate, broken only when Minerva heard a painful cough to her left. She turned her head at the sound. As Snape lowered his napkin from his mouth, Minerva just barely caught a glimpse of flecks of scarlet blood on the white cloth. In a smooth motion, he placed the napkin back on his lap, hiding it from view.

"Are you quite well, Severus?" she asked softly, concerned.

"I am fine," Snape hissed angrily.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. _You just coughed up blood. I am not an idiot. You have not been summoned for several days, so that cannot possibly be the cause of your distress. Poppy is concerned about your health, but cannot discuss any details. There is definitely something very much the matter with you._ Aloud, she said only, "You will let me know if you need anything?"

Snape scowled, and then coughed again, mostly managing to suppress it this time. "If I might be excused, Headmistress? Madam Pomfrey has requested some more Pepper Up potions for the infirmary."

Minerva noticed a few smears of blood on Snape's front teeth. "Of course, Severus." She paused. _Poppy's warning be damned. I refuse to ignore one of my colleagues in such distress._ "I may join you later to discuss the state of your inventory." She had a meeting with Potter at eight o'clock, but could easily speak with Snape between visiting Sprout's greenhouses and talking with her student.

Snape nodded curtly, and then rose from his seat. He stalked off. Minerva noted that whatever was causing him to cough up blood did not seem to affect his mobility. _Or is that simply his pride refusing to show any trace of weakness?_

 _Oh, Severus, what are you hiding?_

-DVDVDV-

"Enter," Severus said upon hearing the knock on his office door. A moment later, McGonagall came into the room. She glanced around, apparently to confirm that it was empty aside from them, and then cast a few quick privacy charms. Without him offering, she then took the seat in front of his desk. "Well?" he snarled.

"You're sick," she said without preamble.

"So Gryffindors insist on telling me," he drawled. "What is your point?"

She pursed her lips. "Allow me to rephrase, Severus. You are physically unwell."

Severus clapped his hands slowly in mockery. "Congratulations, you have discovered the obvious. Was it seeing my condition after each summons that made it apparent, or simply the general state of my appearance?"

McGonagall's nostrils flared briefly, but she evidently refused to be baited. "Both. I spoke with Poppy earlier in the year." At Severus's snarl, she added, "She refused to break confidentiality, and told me to leave you be. But I cannot ignore your condition when you cough up blood at the staff table! Severus, what is wrong? I assure you, I will help you if I can."

"I am _fine_ ," Severus hissed. "And I think that it is time for you to leave."

"I will not stand by and watch you suffer!" McGonagall snapped, temper flaring. "Not if I can possibly do anything to help."

"Gryffindors," Severus spat. "Always so _heroic_ , so _noble._ There is absolutely nothing that you can do." _My organs have finally started to shut down. I can slow their deterioration, even improve them for a time. But I will not live to see the summer._ The image of the Rod of Paracelsus flashed through his mind. He banished the thought.

"If you were to stop spying –"

"Then I would die all the sooner. Or are you so naive as to believe that the Dark Lord would simply accept my resignation from his ranks?" he snarled.

The fight drained from McGonagall's face. In that instant, she resembled an old, careworn grandmother, not the fierce Head of Gryffindor. "So, you are dying then?" she asked softly.

"We are all of us dying," Severus said, sneering. "From the moment we are born." _Some simply die more quickly than others._

McGonagall's expression conveyed that she was not impressed with his response. _Regulus would have appreciated it. He enjoyed that sort of philosophical wordplay._ "We could hide you," she offered. "At Hogwarts, or place you under _fidelius._ "

"It would make little difference."

"But –"

"My condition would not improve, merely deteriorate somewhat less rapidly. The Dark Lord's treatment is a catalyst, not the cause," he snapped, standing and gesturing for her to leave. His body quivered in fury at her interference in his affairs.

She nodded, turning towards the door. She blinked back tears. "How long, then?" she asked, voice unsteady.

Despite himself, Severus felt touched by her concern. _She truly does care about me as a person, not just as an asset. In her place, Dumbledore would use me until I broke._ "I am researching a treatment," he said, keeping his tone cold. "I shall be fine." He glared pointedly at the door. McGonagall left. With a wave of his hand, he slammed it shut behind her, blocking the sight of her mournful, tear-stained glance back at him.

A/N: Please review!


	80. Chapter 80

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 80**

"Mister Potter, how have your occlumency studies been progressing?" McGonagall asked. Her eyes looked raw, and there was an odd note to her voice, almost as if she had been crying.

Harry flushed. "Fine," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"I have been a teacher for almost half my life, Mister Potter. You can safely assume that I know when I am being lied to about a student's homework," McGonagall said. The asperity coloring her tone made it sound almost normal.

Harry fidgeted in his seat. "I've read the book," he protested, embarrassed at being so easily caught out. "And tried the exercises mentioned in them." He looked back down, scowling slightly. "But I'm not sure if I really get it."

Fortunately, McGonagall did not appear upset by this admission. If anything, her demeanor seemed unusually distracted. "That is not surprising. There is a reason, after all, why one typically employs teachers. Self-study can only get you so far. To that end, I am here to offer you a choice. Please understand that our options remain fairly limited. Even though you have been vindicated, and the Ministry finally acknowledges that You-Know-Who has returned, we cannot risk it becoming known that you are studying occlumency."

Harry nodded. "Because then Voldemort could try reading my mind before I'm actually trained in blocking him?" he asked. He had discussed with Hermione and Ron how things at school might change following Voldemort's appearance in Hogsmeade. To their surprise, Dumbledore had not been reinstated as headmaster. Worse, everyone was still watching him closely. It was not as miserable as when they all thought that he was a delusional attention seeker, but he was finding their shift back to worshipful awe almost as annoying. Even Umbridge was behaving nearly as obsequious as Slughorn, trying to get him to be a poster boy for Fudge. The only good thing was that he was no longer finding himself in detention with her. _Just with Filch_ , he thought bitterly, remembering his run-in with Snape earlier.

"Exactly," McGonagall replied. "I am glad to see that you understand the circumstances and our concerns. Unfortunately, as I warned you earlier, our access to potential instructors is limited. Master Snape remains an option, of course." Her voice caught slightly as she mentioned his name. Harry wondered what had happened. "In addition, Lord Grindelwald and Mordred have both volunteered their services. However, given the intimacy inherent in this field of magic, we felt it prudent to ask you whom you would feel most comfortable dealing with."

Harry frowned. "I thought you said we couldn't bring people outside Hogwarts in. If that's no longer true, couldn't Dumbledore teach me?" Harry was not certain how he felt about the Penitent Damned, and he at least trusted Dumbledore not to tell anyone what he saw.

"That is, unfortunately, impossible at this juncture, given the concerns about You-Know-Who seeing through your eyes," she replied. _But wouldn't it be just as dangerous for the others? Then again, Dumbledore probably knows a lot more about what's happening than they do. He always knows everything that's going on._ "And I have been assured that Hellspawn can bring either Grindelwald or Mordred here to my office or to an unused classroom. Either of them can use polyjuice to resemble a student, in case they are seen by someone who should not be aware of your situation."

He nodded, thinking. "Um, in that case, I guess I'd prefer Mordred. I mean, I get that Grindelwald took a vow, and that he's supposed to be reformed, or sort of reformed, but I don't really want deal with another dark lord poking around in my mind. Voldemort's bad enough." _And there's no way I'm letting Snape in, even if he_ is _on our side._

"Quite. Very well, I shall ask Master Snape to make the necessary arrangements. As a condition of this, however, you will need to surrender your map."

Harry scowled. "Why?" _The map's mine! It's one of the only things I have from my dad._

"I do not know, Mister Potter, as I am not familiar with any maps that you might possess. I was, however, informed that you would understand what that means, and that Mordred has – and I quote – 'a right to privacy.' Would you care to enlighten me as to what this entails?"

He flushed again, and fidgeted. "Um, my dad and his friends made a map of Hogwarts. It shows where everyone is," he admitted.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, apparently impressed despite herself. "That sounds like a most remarkable artifact." She sighed, and then shook her head. Harry thought that she looked disappointed, or maybe ashamed. "It also explains a great deal. That map, Mister Potter, could be very dangerous if misused. In the wrong hands, someone could use it to ambush you when you are alone. I suspect it may have been used for a similar purpose in the past." _She's talking about Snape_ , Harry realized. _Did my dad and Sirius use the map to find him when he was alone? Fred and George told me some of the things they did to him. If they had this and the invisibility cloak, Snape must not have had much of a chance to defend himself._ Harry guessed that McGonagall was probably thinking something similar, as her nostrils had flared white. She took a breath to calm herself. "Frankly, I can see why Mordred would not want you to have it. People deserve to have their privacy, Mister Potter."

Even though Harry understood her point, he still felt the need to protest. He had no intention of misusing it, and he had practically nothing left from his parents. "But, Professor –"

"Think about it this way. Would you be happy to learn that Mister Malfoy had a map that showed your movements and those of your friends?"

"Oh." Harry gulped, considering. _That would be pretty bad. Malfoy could use it to ambush us whenever one of us is alone._ He flushed. _Or he might see me with Cho, and realize how much I like her._

 _And Mordred_ is _using an alias, after all. The map would show his real name even if he's polyjuiced. He obviously doesn't want anyone to know who he really is. Which is actually pretty suspicious. Then again, he and Grindelwald did make a big deal about how telling everyone everything could be dangerous, so maybe there's a reason I just don't know about._

With a pang of loss, Harry removed the Marauders' Map from his pocket and handed it to McGonagall. "Can I get it back later?"

"Perhaps, after you graduate," she conceded. "Thank you, Mister Potter. I will send along a note informing you of the time and place for your first occlumency lesson."

Harry nodded. As he rose to leave, he turned back to McGonagall. Hesitantly, he asked, "Um, Professor, is everything alright?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Why ever do you ask, Mister Potter?"

"You, um – never mind. It's none of my business." He turned back towards the door.

To his surprise, McGonagall said, "You have a good heart, Mister Potter. Compassion can be even more potent a force than anger." She took out a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at her reddened eyes. "I just learned that a very dear friend of mine is dying, and there is apparently nothing I – or anyone else – can do about it."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Professor. That's terrible. Is there – is there anything –" Harry broke off, not sure what he should say under the circumstances.

She shook her head sadly. "Thank you, but no. I should not have burdened you with my grief. I think – I think I just need some time to come to terms with it. I only just learned," she said again, sounding lost.

"It's not – it's not Professor Dumbledore, is it?" Harry asked, swallowing nervously. Dumbledore was the oldest person he knew, even if he still looked healthy. It would also explain why he could not come to teach occlumency. _Not that occlumency would matter if Dumbledore's actually dying._

McGonagall shook her head. "What? No, Albus is well, as far as I know. It is . . . someone else. Someone still so very young. Too young. I forget that, sometimes." She smiled very sadly. "I'm sorry, Mister Potter. I should not have said anything."

Feeling horribly awkward, Harry nodded and left the office, wondering who it was.

A/N:

In OotP, Dumbledore was able to apparate out of Hogwarts using Fawkes. It's possible that this was just because he was the headmaster, but I am going to assume instead that phoenixes are able to apparate with humans despite the school's anti-apparation wards. Like house-elves, their magic works differently.

Please review!


	81. Chapter 81

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 81**

Draco sat in Master Snape's office, eying his Head of House. He looked terrible. Admittedly, he never exactly looked good, but there was a world of difference between unattractiveness and illness. And Snape definitely looked ill. His normally sallow skin appeared almost gray in the low dungeon light, and the harsh angles of his face seemed more pronounced than ever. Draco could tell that his parents were worried about Snape, that they suspected that something was seriously wrong with their friend. Looking at the man now, he feared that his parents' concerns were justified.

"Would you care to explain your actions earlier?" Snape asked. Despite his appearance, his voice sounded normal, the rich baritone soft and yet commanding. Draco hoped this meant that he was healthier than he looked.

"Potter attacked me, sir," Draco said. "I just defended myself." That was true. Potter had cast the first spell.

"And did you provoke him?"

Draco shrugged. He had, but he saw no reason to admit it.

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Draco suddenly felt apprehensive. Snape only did that when he felt a pending headache, and it rarely boded well. "Draco, surely you can see that the situation has changed?" he asked. "Potter is again in the Ministry's good graces. Provoking him is not wise."

"But he's the enemy!" Draco exclaimed.

"Attacking an enemy outright is how a _Gryffindor_ would act," Snape sneered. "A _Slytherin_ uses his cunning, only showing his true colors when it is the perfect moment to strike."

"But, sir, _you_ used to attack Gryffindors all the time. Like how you dueled Black and Potter's father in the trophy room."

Snape's expression turned murderous, and Draco realized instantly that he had said the wrong thing. _But why would he be upset? It's a Slytherin House legend, how he beat them two against one._ "What, _exactly_ , is the reasoning behind your feud with Potter?" he asked silkily.

Draco immediately knew that whatever had upset his Head of House, lying to him would only make it much worse. He licked his lips nervously, wondering how to explain. "I tried to be his friend at the beginning, but he rejected it, just because of the Weasel. I was insulted, and wanted to get back at him." Snape did not look impressed by this explanation, and glared at him impatiently, clearly expecting something more. Draco flushed. "And I wanted to be like you, sir," he admitted.

A flicker of surprise passed briefly over Snape's face. Draco was thankful for his parents' training, or he felt certain he would have missed it. "You wished to emulate me," he said softly, and there was a dangerous glint his black eyes. "Why?"

Draco knew that his surprise must have shown on his face. _Why_ wouldn't _someone want to emulate him?_ Snape was a _hero_. Everyone in Slytherin knew that. He was a spy for the Dark Lord, taking on the most difficult mission of all, the most dangerous. Snape stayed close to Dumbledore, lying directly to the second most powerful wizard alive. He was surrounded by aurors and Gryffindor lackeys, where one wrong word could see him killed. His information had saved so many families. Back when Draco was still a first year, Marcus Flint had described to an awed audience how Snape had appeared at his home in the middle of the night, warning his family to flee before the Order of the Phoenix arrived. Flint had been five years old at the time, and still recalled clearly how Snape had carried him to safety while his father assisted his then-pregnant mother.

And that was before Draco factored in everything else his Head of House had done, how Snape had protected Slytherin students from persecution after the Dark Lord's fall, how he had led the raid on Undersecretary Eunice Rothschild, how he had worked days without sleep to invent a treatment for Oswald Ogden after he had been cursed by an entire auror squad. There were even rumors that he was the one who had cost Alastor Moody his eye, but Draco had never been able to confirm if they were true. And, of course, Snape had disproved Agostini's Law and became the youngest person ever to earn the Rod of Paracelsus. Snape was a _legend_ in Slytherin. _How could he not know this?_

His thoughts must have shown on his face, for Snape's expression lost its murderous edge. He looked suddenly weary. "Draco, you should not wish to be like me," he said, and his tone was tinged with something odd. _Self-loathing? But that doesn't make any sense._ "No one should."

Draco frowned. "I disagree, sir," he said. "You're a hero, you know. We all think so."

Again, Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you want out of life, Draco?" he asked.

Draco was thrown by the question. _What did that have to do with anything?_ He paused a moment, and then said, "To continue the Malfoy name and honor our legacy. To see purebloods back in our proper place. To have Mother and Father proud of me. To have a family of my own some day."

Snape nodded. "And how would emulating me accomplish these goals? I am, after all, a half-blood without any family, nor any desire for family. I uphold no legacy."

Draco blinked. He had known that Snape was a half-blood, of course. Everyone did. But it was still strange to hear him admit it so openly, as if it were not shameful. Not that it mattered in his case. According to Father, even the Dark Lord agreed that Snape was an exception. "You're a powerful wizard," he said slowly, understanding that he was treading on dangerous ground but without any idea why that was the case or where the danger lay. "Everyone respects you."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. I had no idea I was so universally regarded," he drawled, and Draco guessed that he was thinking about students from the other Houses. "But I remain confused by what you have said. I do not deny that I am a powerful wizard, but there are many powerful wizards, your father among them. Would he act as you have been acting?"

"No," Draco admitted. Father had cautioned him repeatedly against antagonizing Potter.

"Lucius is my friend," Snape said softly. Draco nodded. He knew that. "He is the last of my friends still alive." Draco's eyes widened. He had not known that. "It is because of this that I will explain just how very misguided you are. I do not expect it to go beyond this room. Is that understood, Draco?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can easily defeat your father in a duel. You may already have suspected this." Draco had. "But in a duel to the death, Lucius would win. Not because I am unable or unwilling to kill, but because I would prefer to die rather than be the cause of his death." Draco's eyes widened. That was _not_ proper Slytherin behavior. Sacrificing yourself for family was one thing. Risking your life for the cause or for friends was another. But _risking_ your life was completely different than just _surrendering_ it. That was the sort of thing only expected from Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "Losing you or Narcissa would be worse than death for Lucius. And there is no surer way for him to lose you than for you to behave like me. Do you know why I am not your godfather?"

Draco shook his head. He had wondered that fairly often, as Snape was clearly Father's closest friend. He had visited Malfoy Manor far more often than Draco's actual godfather, Baptiste Beauparlant, ever did.

"There are several reasons. I am a far crueler, far more violent man than your father is. I have never physically harmed a student under my care, but you have seen the effects my words can cause. Lacking other targets, I would unleash equal vitriol upon you. Not because you would deserve it, but because there is a part of me that enjoys inflicting pain upon those weaker than myself. It is not a quality to be commended, nor is it one that I often allow free rein, but it is a facet of my nature." Draco swallowed.

"Moreover," Snape continued, "I lack many of the skills necessary for raising an heir to a great family. Estate management, Wizengamot politics, hosting parties . . . these are all alien to me. Beauparlant can train you in these things, should something happen to Lucius and Narcissa. I could not." Draco felt slightly shocked to hear Snape admit to his ignorance of any topic. Then again, he remembered seeing Snape at some of Father's parties. He would always stand off to the side, hiding himself in the shadows. He rarely mingled or danced or did any of the other things people were supposed to do at such events. _Is he actually unaware of how to act? I always just thought he was being his usual aloof self._

"You do not have my temperament, nor are the circumstances of your life similar to mine. You come from a loving family. My father murdered my mother. You have never wanted for anything in your life. At your age, I would have envied the Weasleys for their wealth. At school, you are surrounded by friends and allies willing to aid you against your foes. My housemates merely watched as four Gryffindors hexed me wherever I went. A childhood like yours could _never_ result in a man like me. For this, you should be grateful." Draco had known that Snape's life had not been easy, but this was the first time he had heard the details put like that _. Father said that he came from an unpleasant family, that he used to be poor. I thought he just meant that Snape's family was like Goyle's. But for one parent – the_ muggle _parent – to kill the other? And to be so poor that the Weaselys seem rich . . . ._ He could not even imagine it.

"You, Draco, are not the next Severus Snape." And although Draco felt the blow of the words, they did not hurt as much as they might have an hour ago. He stared down at his hands. He wanted to make his parents proud, wanted to impress his Head of House. He no longer knew how. "Instead, concentrate on being the first Draco Malfoy." Draco's eyes snapped back up to look at Snape. "Your magical skills lie in runes. Focus on that. Be the greatest warder, or curse-breaker, or enchanter the wizarding world has ever seen. You are a capable but not exceptional fighter. Improve your skills, but consider if you would rather be the tenth best duelist in Britain or the best runes master. Alternatively, you can follow in your father's footsteps. Learn all that you can from him so that one day, you can take up his mantle and surpass him. Lead the Wizengamot, become Supreme Mugwump. Or choose another path entirely. But do something that _you_ excel in. Do not try to become me. It would only destroy you. The Sorting Hat offered me a choice, Draco, and I did not choose happiness."

Looking into the eyes of his Head of House, Draco could see how very tired and haunted they were, how filled with self-loathing and regret they seemed. Draco did not want to have eyes like that someday. He nodded. "I understand, sir." And he did. He swallowed. "Thank you."

Only later did Draco think to wonder what choice the Sorting Hat had offered that might have granted happiness to a man like Severus Snape. It obviously had not been Slytherin.

A/N:

For those who missed it, Eunice Rothschild was previously mentioned in Chapter 71.

Please review!


	82. Chapter 82

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 82**

Harry waited nervously in a spacious room adjacent to McGonagall's office. Bookcases lined two of the walls, and a comfortable-looking couch took up a third. Across from it were two plush leather armchairs grouped around a small table. An elegant silver tea set lay atop it. He guessed that this was McGonagall's personal sitting room, but was reluctant to ask.

"Do sit down, Mister Potter," said McGonagall, who was already seated in one of the chairs. "He will be here momentarily."

Just then, an antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed seven o'clock. There was a sudden flash of fire in the room, and Harry blinked in surprise. When he opened his eyes again, he saw an unfamiliar young man dressed in Hufflepuff robes standing in front of him. He looked about sixteen or seventeen, and had deeply bronzed skin and long black hair tied back in an elaborate braid. The familiar form of Hellspawn was perched on his shoulder.

"Greetings, Headmistress McGonagall, Mister Potter," the young man said. He had a very slight Middle Eastern accent.

"Mordred, I presume?" McGonagall asked, rising from her seat. After a moment, Harry belatedly decided to stand as well.

"Indeed, Headmistress McGonagall. Although, should I be discovered here, in this form, might I instead recommend Cyrus Ostad, a sixth-year Hufflepuff?"

McGonagall nodded, lips twitching slightly. "Might I inquire if you were, in fact, a Hufflepuff?"

Mordred chuckled. "What makes you believe I even attended Hogwarts? And now, unless you have anything you wish to discuss with me, would you be so kind as to leave us? I do not believe that outside observation at this time would help Mister Potter's instruction in occlumency."

"Of course. I will be just outside in my office. I have a meeting with Severus scheduled in half an hour, but please call if you need anything." With that, McGonagall left the room.

"Sit, Mister Potter," Mordred said. Harry lowered himself back into the chair. "We shall discuss theory first, before we begin the practical." He sat in the chair that McGonagall had vacated. "I am told that you have read the text assigned. Before we proceed further, do you have any questions regarding the material?"

"Um, yeah," Harry said. "I don't really get what the book means about 'clearing your mind.' I tried thinking of nothing, but I don't really see how that's possible. I mean, you're always going to be thinking of something, right? So I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do."

Mordred nodded. "The idea that one must think of nothing in order to clear one's mind is a common misconception, Mister Potter. Rather, you should seek a clarity of thought, in which nothing exists save yourself and the idea upon which you are focusing. Ideally, it should be a simple, repetitive thought at this stage. For instance, are you familiar with the muggle concept of counting sheep in order to fall asleep? Clearing one's mind is a similar process. One simply must remove all other distractions from one's consciousness. "

Harry frowned in consideration. "So, I just need to pick something and think about it? And only it? And that's it?"

"Hardly, Mister Potter. Clearing one's mind is merely the first stage. It resembles muggle meditation more than anything else. It should assist with controlling your emotions, and it forms the basis for building rudimentary occlumency shields."

"How does it do that? Build shields, I mean?"

"A legilimens seeks to gain access you memories and emotions. If the occlumens is focused on a single, simple thought – such as the counting of sheep – it is more difficult for the legilimens to find the information he seeks. Initially, the shields are weak, easy to surmount. With practice and training, a witch or wizard can strengthen them. In this way, it is like learning any other spell. When you first cast a _lumos_ , you were doubtless pleased to see a single spark of light, yes? And it was a struggle? Yet if you attempted it now, it would be as simple as a thought. If you willed it, your light could illuminate the entire room. Occlumency is more difficult than a simple _lumos_ , but the principles are the same. It will be a challenge at first, but with continual practice it will become second nature."

Mordred paused in his lecture. "Not all witches and wizards are adept at occlumency. True mastery ultimately requires a combination of natural talent and practice. You may or may not be able to master this art, but even a wizard who lacks any natural talent for it whatsoever should be able to create shields if he applies himself properly."

Harry nodded. He felt a bit better, knowing that it was not impossible.

"Do you have any other questions, Mister Potter, before we begin?"

"Yeah, I was wondering. Professor McGonagall said that occlumency would help with my, er, my temper." Harry felt his face heat in embarrassment. "How does that work?"

Mordred smiled slightly. "Controlling one's temper is a worthy goal, and not one of which you should be ashamed. Yes, occlumency can also be used to control one's emotions, not just anger. Occlumency shields are normally focused outwards, to prevent external penetration, but they can also be turned inwards, to keep strong emotions caged. An occlumens who chooses to do this still feels the emotions, but at a distance. They do not influence his actions to the same degree."

Harry nodded. That did not sound nearly as bad as he had feared. "So it's not like becoming a robot," he said, sighing a bit in relief.

Mordred looked momentarily confused. Hellspawn trilled something, and Mordred nodded. "Correct, Mister Potter. You need not fear becoming an emotionless automaton. And now, do you have any further questions?"

"No, sir – I mean, Mordred."

"Excellent. In that case, let us see if Severus has yet arrived. For our first lesson, I would like to show you what legilimency and occlumency look like to an external observer, and then have you view my memories of the results of a legilimency probe. For this, we need Severus's assistance." Seeing the look on Harry's face, Mordred chuckled slightly. "I recognize that there is a history of animosity between you and Master Snape. I assure you, Mister Potter, that he will not become a regular attendee of these tutorials. But he is the most talented occlumens I have ever met, perhaps the most talented occlumens alive. It would be beneficial for you to observe his process."

Mordred paused, and then added. "I would ask that you remain civil in his presence, as he has promised to be in yours for the duration of this lesson."

Harry scowled, but nodded. It would probably help to see how occlumency was done, after all. And Snape had not been quite as bad lately, now that he was no longer teaching, even if he was still a nasty, detention-giving git. Besides, Mordred _was_ his boss, so he would have to be on his best behavior. "Alright," he agreed.

A/N:

Cyrus the Great was the first king of Persia. "Ostad" is an honorific for the master of a profession.

I posted a one-shot showing Severus's sorting into Slytherin. I'd originally considered including it as a flashback in _Darkness Visible,_ but there wasn't a good place to fit it.

Please review!


	83. Chapter 83

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 83**

Severus and McGonagall were midway through their biweekly review of the Slytherin students' academic status when there was a knock on the door that he knew led to her sitting room. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Gellert, polyjuiced as a teenager and with Hellspawn on one shoulder, and Potter.

Severus and Gellert had agreed that the latter would be best suited to begin Potter's training in occlumency. Despite Severus's superior proficiency in this area of magic, his abilities were so ingrained and automatic that they would be difficult to articulate to a beginner. Once Potter grasped the basics, they would be able to switch roles if necessary. In the meantime, they trusted that any dissimilarities in his and Gellert's portrayals of Mordred would be overlooked due to the inherent differences between interacting with someone appearing as a Dutch adult and one disguised as an Iranian teenager.

"I beg your pardon for the interruption, Headmistress McGonagall," Gellert said. "However, I feel that it would be beneficial to provide Mister Potter with an example of legilimency and occlumency from the perspective of an external observer before we begin with any practical attempts. Might I borrow Master Snape for a few minutes?"

McGonagall turned to Severus. "So long as he has no objections," she said. Severus frowned. She had been overly solicitous ever since she had confronted him about his ill health. He had no wish to be pitied.

 _"_ _Demonstration time,"_ Hellspawn said happily. _"And I finally get to be seen with you in public!"_

"Imagine my delight," Severus replied drily.

"Severus, Hellspawn, do try to remain civil," Gellert said coolly. Severus glared briefly at Hellspawn, and then nodded curtly. Hellspawn bristled, but then inclined his head as well. They had planned a brief display of animosity to reinforce the idea that Severus and Mordred were separate people. _Although this was not far removed from our usual interactions when away from public view._ "Would you care to observe as well, Headmistress McGonagall?" Gellert asked.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Only if Severus does not mind."

"It makes little difference," Severus said, shrugging slightly. _Although it would be beneficial to have a second witness who could attest that both "Mordred" and I are different people, especially as Tonks has aligned herself more closely with the Damned. And spending more than a few seconds in the company of us both should be more convincing than a momentary greeting._ McGonagall nodded and followed him into the room, shutting the door behind them. Gellert gestured for her to sit in the vacant chair. He and Severus stood across from one another.

Turning to face their audience, Gellert said, "As I informed Mister Potter, Master Snape is a supremely talented occlumens. I do not expect that my efforts will yield anything that he does not wish for me to see. Headmistress McGonagall, I assume that you have access to the school pensieve?" She nodded. "Excellent. After this is over, I shall share my memories of my attempts for you and Mister Potter to view.

"First, I shall demonstrate passive legilimency. This simply looks for emotional resonances, and is primarily used to detect mistruths in conversation. I will be seeking details about what Master Snape ate for dinner this evening, and he will attempt to obfuscate the truth." He turned back to Severus, staring intently into his eyes. "Severus, my friend, you look a tad wan. Did dinner not agree with you?"

Severus shrugged, feeling the light touch of Gellert's legilimency probe hit his shields as he spoke. He easily redirected it to reflect signs of his disinterest in the proceedings and honesty in his responses. "It was palatable."

"The house elves outdid themselves, no doubt."

Severus snorted. "They value quantity over quality, as ever. I marvel that any of the wretched creatures have even heard of herbs, let alone spices."

"Not everyone can recreate your infamous curry."

"They could at least put forth _some_ effort. But, again, we were treated to yet another night of meat and potatoes. If they must insist on something so insipid, they should at least offer _salads,_ " Severus sneered.

McGonagall snorted in amusement. She had been sitting next to him at dinner, observing him from the corner of her eye as if he would not notice her attention. She doubtless recalled that he had ignored the salad and instead eaten only some carrot soup. Gellert turned back to look at her and Potter. "For passive legilimency, eye contact is often essential. Were either of you able to discern any other signs, either of legilimency or occlumency?"

Potter shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Nor did I," McGonagall admitted.

Gellert nodded. "Good. There would have been none. To an outside observer, passive legilimency is indistinguishable from simply looking at someone intently. Next, I shall demonstrate an attempt at active legilimency. Master Snape will seek to use his shields to push me out of his mind, preventing me from seeing anything. Acquiring this skill is the primary goal of most occlumens." He turned back to Severus, and they stared at each other in silence. Severus felt a stronger legilimency probe this time, seeking his memory of eating dinner in the Great Hall. Severus easily thrust Gellert from his mind. Gellert flinched, breaking eye contact. "Headmistress McGonagall, Mister Potter, did either of you notice anything then?" he asked their audience.

Potter frowned. "For a second, it looked like you were having a staring contest."

Gellert nodded amiably. "Indeed. Even in its more active form, legilimency and occlumency have no major visual effects. Maintaining eye contact is common, although not, strictly speaking, required. Master Snape rather easily threw me out of his mind, causing me to experience a mild stinging sensation. This is the level of skill that you shall be studying to attain, Mister Potter.

"And now, lastly, I shall demonstrate active, verbal legilimency. Master Snape will attempt to show me a false version of what he had for dinner. This is a far more difficult endeavor than merely pushing me from his mind, and it is one that only a master occlumens can perform successfully. A skilled legilimens can sometimes identify the occlumens's alternations, depending on the relative proficiencies of the two parties." He turned back to Severus and raised his wand. " _Legilimens._ "

Severus felt the force of Gellert's new probe hit him. It was significantly stronger than the previous two attempts, but not nearly as potent as those the Dark Lord routinely tested him with. He smoothly redirected the probe to a slightly altered memory, showing him picking at a slice of roast chicken. After about thirty seconds, Gellert broke the contact.

"It looked the same as last time, except that you used your wand and spoke the spell aloud," Potter said when Gellert turned to him. "And you won the starting contest this time."

Gellert chuckled. "Perhaps," he said. "And now, Headmistress McGonagall, if I might borrow the use of your pensieve?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, rising from her seat and moving to the next room. A moment later, she retuned carrying a large stone basin lined with runes.

Gellert withdrew a long silvery thread of memory and deposited it into the pensieve. "Please, take a look." Potter and McGonagall paused a moment, and then entered the memory.

As they waited, Hellspawn asked, _"So, what did you actually have for dinner?"_

"Soup," Severus replied. Gellert chuckled.

McGonagall and Potter emerged from the memory a minute later. "I am impressed," she said. "Had I not seen you eating in the Great Hall, I would never have known that you were misleading Mordred." As Potter's eyes widened comically, McGonagall's lips twitched. "He ate soup for dinner."

Severus inclined his head slightly. "Is there anything else?" he asked Gellert.

"No, thank you, Master Snape. That will be all. I can cover the remaining introduction without your assistance."

Severus nodded curtly and then turned to leave the room. As he left, he heard McGonagall say, "Thank you, Mordred, for the lesson." Severus assumed that Gellert must have made some gesture of acknowledgement, as she soon exited as well, closing the door behind her. She gestured for him to sit in front of her desk. He complied.

"That was fascinating, Severus. Thank you for allowing me to observe."

He shrugged slightly, not certain how to respond. Both the Order and the Death Eaters never fully trusted him in part because of his proficiency in occlumency. Demonstrating his facility in the art was not something he would normally have done, even with someone like McGonagall, who knew intellectually that he was a master. But Gellert had insisted that it would be beneficial, and Severus had reluctantly agreed.

"You did not act differently," McGonagall noted.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why would I have?" he drawled.

She sighed. "Perhaps I was foolish to expect something else. I confess I have sometimes wondered how much of your habitual demeanor was caused by which role you are playing or the amount of occlumency you were employing," she admitted.

Severus sneered. "I am myself, always." _Except for when I am Mordred_ , he reminded himself. "I am equally charming before the Dark Lord as I am here with you. I simply litter my speech with more obsequious titles when reporting to the former. Occlumency does not create new personalities." _Nor do I ever drop my occlumency shields anymore. Not since this summer. And even before then, I would always keep them raised in public._ He stood from his chair. "Is there anything else you wished?"

McGonagall sighed. "Do sit down, Severus," she said, annoyed. "We obviously need to clear the air between us. I apologize if my comment offended you. Or if our recent discussion in your office discomforted you. That was certainly not my intention," she added, voice softening.

Severus scowled. "I do not want your pity." He did not sit.

She nodded. "I understand. And I am not offering it. I _am_ , however, offering my support if there is anything you need. I will endeavor to treat you no differently than before, and apologize in advance if I do not always succeed. Agreed?"

Severus hesitated, and then nodded curtly. He returned to his seat.

McGonagall let out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you. If you do not object, I do have some questions. You are, of course, free to answer them or not, as you see fit." She looked at him hesitantly, and Severus realized that she was worried about offending him again. He inclined his head slightly. He would listen, at least. Seeing his affirmation, she asked, "Does anyone else know?"

"Madam Pomfrey is aware, as are Mordred and Hellspawn. I would not be surprised if Lord Grindelwald has been informed by now."

"Albus does not know?" she asked, slightly surprised.

Severus glared at her. "You will not tell him," he hissed angrily. "It is no concern of his."

"I won't," she promised, although she looked troubled. "I won't speak of this to anyone without your permission, Severus. You have my word." She paused. "Will you tell me what, exactly, is causing your condition? It's not an aftereffect of You-Know-Who's horcrux, is it?"

"No." _Ivory and ebony. A comforting weight in my hand._ Severus ignored the now-familiar yearning.

She sighed softly. "I had thought, since it nearly killed Hellspawn . . . ." She shook her head. "How long do you have?"

"This discussion is over," Severus said harshly, rising again from his chair.

McGonagall held up a hand. "As you wish. However, I believe we were going over your third year students when Mordred interrupted. If you would care to return to your seat, we can finish our review." And in that instant, Severus knew that McGonagall would keep her promise. She would try to treat him no differently than she had before. She would not inflict her pity upon him. She might not succeed, but she would try. He sat.

They returned to their previous discussion. Finally, once their review had finished, McGonagall commented, almost absently, "I noticed Dolores looking a bit pale earlier today, and she's still complaining about odd aches in her joints."

Severus shrugged. "Not everyone is able to tolerate the autumn weather in Scotland. Surely this is no surprise to you by now."

"Do you think Poppy will be able to help her?"

"Doubtful, if it is, in fact, related to the climate. At best, Madam Pomfrey would be able to offer some palliatives. However, I suspect that Umbridge's health would improve dramatically should she simply leave Scotland."

McGonagall lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "I see. Well, it would be a great pity to lose her. And I believe that is all for our biweekly review. Thank you, Severus. I appreciate your dedication to your students, as always."

A/N: Please review!


	84. Chapter 84

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 84**

Harry found that occlumency was both easier and harder than he had expected. Now that he had a better idea of what he was supposed to be doing, the various exercises designed to clear his mind made more sense. One week into his lessons, he had already noticed some improvement in his self-control. At the end of the Gyffindor-Slytherin quidditch match, Adrian Pucey had taunted him about his parents. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy had laughed, but had not otherwise added to the mockery. Harry had felt an almost overwhelming urge to punch Pucey, to wipe that smug smirk from his face, but he had – barely – remembered the visualization exercises and restrained himself. Harry had still been quivering with suppressed anger when Madam Hooch had flown over to them, but it was, at least, progress.

Actually blocking a legilimency attack was proving much harder. He had met twice more with Mordred since their initial session at the beginning of the week. In each of those lessons, Mordred had cast _legilimens_ at him, and Harry had been unable to prevent the other wizard from seeing his memories.

"Do not grow discouraged," Mordred chided, seeing Harry's scowl after reliving his first charms class. "Occlumency shields grow more potent the more you practice. Concentrate on your single thought. When you feel another thought intrude, push it away. That will block my probe."

And Harry closed his eyes, picturing clouds drifting through a blue sky. This had been one of the suggestions in his book, and it was the image he preferred the most. He breathed deeply. _In and out. In and out._ With the image of clouds still in his mind, he opened his eyes and nodded. He was ready to try again.

-DVDVDV-

Albus Dumbledore and Bill Weasley sat across from Deputy Head of Gringotts Turnok, who was flanked by two standing goblin guards. Gellert had declined to accompany them, citing the foolishness of having him wander, undisguised, in public. Entering Gringotts under a pseudonym would only harm negotiations should he be discovered, even if the goblins had remained neutral during his rise to power. Gellert had explained that Mordred would remain absent as well. Given that the goblins had placed their guests under the Thief's Downfall prior to leading them to the conference room, Albus could not fault the Damned's decision, although he privately lamented the lost opportunity to ascertain Mordred's true identity.

Albus had not wanted to bring Bill with him. Gellert had told him not to be stupid, and that having a Gringotts employee act as intermediary could only help their cause.

 **"** **We seek a trade,"** Bill said in Gobbledygook. **"A fair exchange. A wizard-made goblet held in the vault of a wanted criminal, for goblin-wrought goods."**

 **"** **The goblin-made should be returned to goblin hands before now,"** Turnok replied. **"You keep stolen goods from their rightful owners."**

 **"** **The Ministry does not see it thus,"** Albus noted calmly. **"We offer that which you do not currently have, nor have legal recourse to claim at this time."**

Turnok bared his pointed teeth at Albus in the goblin equivalent of a snarl. **"Claiming allegiance with your Ministry does not endear you to us, wizard."**

Bill held up his empty hands, palm out. **"** **We mean no disrespect, leader. We merely state the official stance of the government, and offer a means to circumvent their restrictions legally."**

 **"** **What do you offer?"**

 **"** **What do you require in exchange?"** Albus countered. He knew better than to show their entire list of goblin-made goods at this stage of the negotiations. If he did, Turnok would demand all of the artifacts, and perhaps more.

Again, Turnok showed his teeth, but this time it was less a snarl and more a smirk. **"Seven Class A artifacts and three other objects of our choice from your inventory."**

Six exhausting hours and a great deal of negotiation later, they had agreed to surrender two necklaces, one tiara, a dagger, and the Sword of Gryffindor in exchange for Hufflepuff's Cup.

-DVDVDV-

 _"_ _Volare corde vespertilionis_ ," Severus said. As he had done most nights lately, he perched at the edge of the astronomy tower, no doubt resembling the giant bat that students so often accused him of being. He jumped.

Unlike all the other times, he did not fall.

He soared.

It felt like freedom, flying over the school grounds. Severus had never enjoyed flying with a broomstick. He had tried out for the Slytherin quidditch team as a third year student not because of any interest in the sport, but because joining the team would give him the much needed status that an impoverished, ugly half-blood lacked in Slytherin House. It would force his housemates to help protect him against any mischief the Marauders initiated, if only to prevent a loss in upcoming quidditch matches.

A hexed broom led to a shattered arm and broken ribs. Severus's minimal enjoyment of flying died that day.

And now that childish pleasure returned, stronger than it had ever been. He was alone, and only his magic and his will kept him from falling.

For thousands of years, wizards had sought to fly unsupported, without broom or carpet or other device. It was widely regarded as impossible, a fool's dream.

And then the Dark Lord had discovered how to combine charms and transfiguration. Gifted with that knowledge, Severus had invented a means to fly. He had transfigured himself to be insubstantial, yet solid. Charms held him aloft, allowed him to direct his movement. He was weightless, yet retained his strength. He convinced the air that he should not fall.

The spell he had crafted was dark magic. It manipulated the wind, bent the element itself to his will. An _imperius_ on nature itself. Casting the spell felt crisp and cold and _wrong_.

It was his masterpiece, and he loved it.

Tomorrow, he would gift his spell to the Dark Lord. For tonight, he would pretend that he was truly free.

A/N:

The quidditch match is a reference to the game in OotP in which Umbridge gives Harry and the Weasley twins a lifetime quidditch ban after they get into a fight with Malfoy. As an AU note, the timing of the match is a bit off compared to OotP. For the purposes of this fic, I'm moving it to the last week of October (about 3 weeks after the Hogsmeade weekend with the "Voldemort" attack), rather than the beginning of November as it was in canon.

Loosely translated from Latin, the successful flight spell is "fly with the heart of a bat."

Please review!


	85. Chapter 85

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 85**

Gellert watched as Severus stared intently at the small orb for several minutes. At last, he raised his head and turned to him. "It should suffice. Is there anything else that needs to be modified before I add the actual content?" Gellert smiled. By now, he recognized that from Severus, such faint praise might as well have been gushing approval.

"No, the runic arrays are fully complete. I simply need you to cast the charm with the false prophecy."

Severus nodded. He held the tip of his wand against his temple and withdrew a glowing silvery strand of memory. With it still attached to the end of his wand, he began a long, low chant. After five minutes, the silver thread glowed suddenly bright, and then disappeared into the orb, which began to glow. He continued his incantation for another two minutes, before finally falling silent.

"Thank you," Gellert said, absently stroking Hellspawn's plumed head. "I will ensure that it finds its rightful home in the Department of Mysteries. I also have some ideas for modifications to the Ministry atrium, based on the information that Shacklebolt was able to provide." Severus raised an eyebrow in question. "That discussion can wait for now. I know that our time today is likely limited, given your other commitments, and I would therefore prefer to go over more pressing matters first. As we discussed, I am preparing a raid on McNair. I think it best to time it to coincide with your summons, in case you require an alibi with Riddle."

Severus nodded. "I sent him word that I desired to speak with him regarding a non-urgent matter. I expect that he will summon me shortly, although I cannot be certain as to when."

 _"_ _No doubt when you least expect it,"_ Hellspawn said. _"He always has impeccable timing."_

"How is Potter progressing with his occlumency training?" Severus asked, ignoring the phoenix.

"He is demonstrating a commendable commitment to practicing, but I fear that his control remains mediocre compared to what I had hoped for him at this stage. He is finally beginning to recognize my intrusions, but his shields remain threadbare at best, and he has difficulty throwing me from his mind." And Gellert had a very strong suspicion as to why Potter's progress was so poor, despite his clear attempts to learn. Albus's theory was undoubtedly correct. The boy was a horcrux, and Riddle's emotions kept bleeding through into their lessons. If he had begun training sooner, before Riddle's return to his full strength, Gellert suspected that Potter would have had a far easier time learning occlumency, even if he never attained full mastery.

Fortunately, the horcrux at least seemed dormant, unable to influence the boy's actions.

"And has Potter experienced any additional visions?"

"Yes. He regularly dreams of the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. I have explained that Riddle seeks something stored there, and that Potter should refrain from requesting further details until he can successfully block his mind. I instructed him to inform either you or the headmistress should he experience any new visions."

Severus frowned. "Their mental connection has no precedent of which I am aware." He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. "Could Potter possibly be a horcrux himself?"

 _Damn it_ , Gellert swore mentally. By offering to train Potter in occlumency, he had hoped to avoid Severus making this connection. Before he could admit the possibility, though, Hellspawn said, _"_ _Why would Riddle keep trying to destroy his own horcrux?"_

Gellert understood the phoenix's aim. _He still does not wish Severus to know. I can but hope the time his ignorance buys him will counter the pain should he uncover our deception._ "My knowledge of horcruxes remains, admittedly, limited by the lack of information available. However, all of the references I have encountered speak of an object as the vessel. It might theoretically be possible to make a person into a horcrux, although I cannot conceive of why anyone – even a man as insane as Riddle – would risk placing a fragment of his soul in someone who can think and move for himself."

Severus relaxed minutely. Gellert wondered how long he had been nursing his – unfortunately accurate – suspicions. "Then you believe their connection to be an aftereffect of the rebounded killing curse?"

Gellert shrugged. "That is certainly a possibility, albeit a difficult one to prove given the absence of reliable data detailing exactly what transpired that night. Alternatively, the resurrection ritual that Riddle performed using Potter's blood may be a contributing factor. I understand that it was a ritual that he himself invented, and that this was the only known time it was performed? As a newly invented ritual, it could potentially account for their link. There might also be other rituals involved depending on what Potter's mother invoked to protect him. At this juncture, blocking their connection must take precedence over determining the root cause. We may never know exactly what factor – or factors – led to its creation."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "On a related note, I have finally located an apothecary able to procure basilisk venom. It should arrive within the next fortnight."

Gellert smiled. "Excellent. I was growing concerned by your difficulty in locating a supplier. How ever did Potter manage to obtain a fang in the first place?"

Severus scowled. "There was a basilisk hidden in the school. Potter stabbed it."

"And you didn't think to harvest it?" Gellert asked, surprised.

" _I_ did," he snapped. " _Dumbledore_ told the staff that the beast had been disposed of it. When I requested the corpse as ingredients, he claimed that it was no longer available. As there were no known beneficial potions that use basilisk parts, I should 'avoid the temptations of the dark.' Never mind that there might be _unknown_ beneficial potions that require these ingredients."

"Ah."

 _"_ _It's a sore point,"_ Hellspawn added.

"Yes, I can see that," Gellert replied. "And fairly short-sighted and hypocritical of Albus, all things considered." No one thought that dragon's blood was useful until Albus had published his findings, after all. "A pity. Ah, well, at least you have located a supplier. We can begin by destroying Hufflepuff's Cup, perhaps during one of your summons. Should Riddle not give any sign of awareness, we can then safely proceed with the Rod of Paracelsus."

Severus gave an almost imperceptible flinch even as he inclined his head in approval. "Agreed." A moment later, he winced more noticeably. "I am being summoned," he said simply. He removed a small lion-shaped pendant from his pocket and tapped it once with his wand. It glowed briefly, and he replaced it, withdrawing a silver mask and black robes in its place. After donning them swiftly, he disapparated with a loud _crack._

 _"_ _He does not wish to destroy the Rod,"_ Hellspawn said. _"I sometimes see him stare at the desk he keeps it in, looking haunted."_

Gellert frowned. **"You do not believe he will do what is necessary?"** he asked in German.

 _"_ _No, I am confident that he will. But it will hurt him, even so."_

-DVDVDV-

After circling twice around the ballroom, Severus returned to the Dark Lord's side. Voldemort had watched his flight avidly, a sly and hungry look in his red eyes. As he landed, Voldemort traced Severus's cheek with a single pale finger. **"** **You have done well, my own,"** he said softly. **"** **Very well indeed. Lord Voldemort is pleased with you."**

Severus inclined his head slightly. **"Thank you, my Lord,"** he replied.

And the Dark Lord smiled. It was not his usual smile. It appeared genuine, almost welcoming, for all that it seemed alien on that snake-like face. For an instant, Severus was reminded of the Voldemort of his youth, when the monster still looked human, when he had charmed so many men and women into joining his cause. When he had charmed a cynical young Severus Snape, who had been so very angry with the world that scorned him, who had believed that the Death Eaters were heroes fighting against the evils represented by Dumbledore and his golden Gryffindors. And then the moment passed, and Severus again saw merely the cold, reptilian face of his master.

It was only hours later, upon glancing the box on his nightstand, that Severus understood the meaning of that smile.

The Dark Lord had congratulated him in parseltongue, and Severus had responded in kind.

A/N:

Please keep in mind that in canon, Voldemort himself never figured out that Harry was one of his horcruxes, despite making another living creature (Nagini) into one and actually possessing Harry in the Department of Mysteries. Even factoring in his insanity, that strongly suggests that there is at least one other plausible explanation for the mental connection between the two of them.

Yes, Dumbledore misled Severus about the fate of the basilisk corpse after CoS.

And since several reviewers have asked about the Sword of Gryffindor, this fic will be running with the idea that the Sword appeared in Dumbledore's hour of need when he was dying from the ring horcrux (similar to how it appeared from the Sorting Hat in CoS). Before then, Dumbledore did not know that it had absorbed the basilisk venom.

Please review!


	86. Chapter 86

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 86**

Gellert surveyed the polyjuiced forms of Nymphadora Tonks, Bill Weasley, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They each had taken the forms of muggles and wore dark blue hooded cloaks with the symbol of a line inside a circle inside a triangle inscribed on the back. The sign of the Deathly Hallows. The sign of Lord Grindelwald.

After Severus left Spinner's End to join Riddle, Gellert had sent word via Hellspawn for the others to meet him in Cardiff. From there, they would visit the home of Walden McNair, a Death Eater who worked as an executioner from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. From Severus's information, Gellert did not expect McNair to have one of the horcruxes nor any information regarding them, although he would check regardless. Their primary goal was simply to remove the Ministry employee from Tom Riddle's ranks, preferably by recruiting him.

None of the planning for the evening's mission occurred at Grimmauld Place. Gellert would not risk Black interfering again.

 _Not that such a thing is likely. The runes on his collar will act as a leash, yanking him back to his house should he be so moronic as to leave it again._

Gellert wondered idly if Black had attempted to remove it yet. From what he had seen of the man's disposition, it seemed likely. Gellert smiled coldly. He hoped he had, and that he would continue to try repeatedly. The resulting escalation of punishments might drive some well-needed discipline into the idiot. Failing that, it would, at least, entertain Severus.

Gellert and his three polyjuiced associates apparated about half a mile from McNair's country home and began an easy walk to the house. The building appeared well-kept, if far smaller than Darius Nott's manor. The McNairs might be purebloods, but they were only comfortably middle-class.

About thirty yards from the entrance to the house, Gellert held up his hand. The others stopped walking. With his wand, Gellert drew two fiery runes in the air. A moment later, a ripple of steam began rising from the ground in front of them. A minute passed, and then the air settled.

Bill Weasley, disguised as a non-descript middle-aged muggle, let out a low whistle. To his left, Shacklebolt frowned. "Wards should not be so easily disabled."

Bill laughed incredulously. "Easily? You do realize that this was a reverse Palermo decryption, right? It's _beyond_ advanced." He shook his head ruefully. "I've never even _seen_ it done before."

Gellert grinned boyishly. "My rise was not simply a fluke of luck." More seriously, he added, "But these wards were rather pitiful. Hardly a test of power or skill. They do not speak well of McNair's ability, nor that of his contractor."

With the wards down, entering the house was as simple as casting an _alohamora_ on the front door. Although it was dark inside, the house seemed fairly well-appointed, certainly more comfortable than Severus's house at Spinner's End. Gellert shook his head. _There is truly no justice in this world._ He cast a silent _hominum revelio_ , and nodded towards a staircase to the left of the entrance. The party quietly climbed, following Gellert as he led them down the hall to a closed wooden door. He silently opened it to reveal a large bedroom. Drawn curtains surrounded a four-poster bed set flush against the far wall.

Raising his hand again, Gellert drew another series of runes in the air to prevent apparition or portkeys for the next ten minutes. That done, he nodded once at the others.

Bill quietly made his way to the right side of the bed, while Shacklebolt took the left. Tonks stood beside Gellert at the foot of the bed. With a silent wave of his wand, Gellert vanished the curtains. A tall, muscular man with a thick black mustache lay sprawled on the bed, snoring softly. With another wave of his wand, Gellert conjured dark ropes around the man's legs and torso, awakening him with a violent start. He tried to fling himself towards his bedside table, where he presumably kept his wand, but the ropes prevented the movement.

"Good evening," Gellert said, voice polite yet tinged with menace. McNair's eyes darted nervously to his left and right, only to see two other cloaked figures with wands aimed at his chest. Gellert clucked his tongue in a mild _tsk_. "I do recommend that you pay attention to me, my boy. I rather dislike being ignored." As he spoke, Gellert sent a legilimency probe at McNair, searching for any information that might prove valuable.

McNair turned his attention back to him. "What do you want?" he asked, voice a croak. "Here to kill me like you killed Nott?"

"If I were simply here to kill you, Walden, you would be dead already. No, I am here to offer you a choice. You seem like a reasonable sort of man, and I have no doubt that you will make a healthier decision than the late Mister Nott did." Gellert smiled, allowing his aura to flare around him. McNair shuddered in his restraints. "Your first choice is to join me. Now, I realize that you have some other loyalties already, and I am afraid that you will need to disavow the Death Eaters. While I agree with many of their objectives, their methods are woefully inefficient. It's time for a more effective approach. You would, naturally, be well rewarded in the new order." _And forced to make an Unbreakable Vow sealing your loyalty, with no clever loopholes allowing you to return to Tom Riddle's service._

"And the alternative?" McNair asked, trying – and failing – to keep his voice level.

"Should you decline my generous offer, I can place you in a magical coma for the duration of the current conflict, with wards hiding you from other parties and preventing you from taking damage from your immediate surroundings during the interim. Once the power dynamics have settled, you would awaken. Your loyalty would be closely monitored afterwards, of course, but there would be neither rewards nor punishment for your neutrality." Gellert privately scoffed at this ridiculously merciful option, but recognized that his three companions' sensibilities required it.

McNair licked his lips nervously. "The Dark Lord will kill me," he whispered.

Gellert _tsked_ again. "You know, I really hate that title. Yes, your so-called Lord Voldemort is _a_ dark lord, but _the_ dark lord? That is really rather presumptuous of him, isn't it? While I applaud his ambition, his record is hardly on the same level as others', is it? I mean, I viciously slaughtered more people in 1944 alone than he has done in his entire reign of terror to date. And I was as nothing compared to the likes of Vlad Tepes or Baba Yaga." Beside him, Tonks flinched almost imperceptibly. _Yes, Auror Tonks, I am indeed still the ruthless monster whose armies slaughtered half of Europe. Did my easy-going charm make you forget?_

"But to address your concerns, I find it amusing that you are worried about _Voldemort_ killing you when you should be more concerned about _me_ killing you. I have no qualms about sending you to join the late Mister Nott.

"Now, if for some reason you still fear your absent lord, do keep in mind that it is highly likely that Voldemort will kill you regardless. He is not exactly kind to his followers, is he? With me, you would at least have the promise of some measure of protection."

Gellert paused, watching as McNair considered his options. At last, he nodded. "A coma. I want nothing to do with this."

Gellert nodded. The man was utterly worthless anyway. He cared only for the "glory" of killing mindless creatures, and knew virtually nothing of Tom Riddle's plans. Gellert withdrew a potion from his pocket and poured the contents down McNair's throat. The man immediately fell unconscious. Gellert vanished the ropes.

"I will set up the Tennyson array." He turned to Bill. "Would you care to lay down the Malory sigils?"

Bill smiled. "Sure, sir."

They set to work.

A/N:

Alfred, Lord Tennyson was poet laureate of Great Britain and Ireland under Queen Victoria. He wrote _Idylls of the King_ , a collection of poems about King Arthur. Sir Thomas Malory wrote _Le Morte D'Arthur_ , which was the first major collection of Arthurian legends in the English language (only the title was in French).

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	87. Chapter 87

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 87**

 _Am I being possessed?_

Severus considered the primary forms of possession. Some methods caused the victims to black out, allowing the possessor to manipulate the unconscious body of the host. In these cases, the victim was not aware of the possession, nor had any additional powers while the possessing entity remained dormant. Severus could not discount the possibility of possession during his sleeping hours, but that should not have carried over to fluency in parseltongue while he was under his own control.

Other types had their victims retain their full awareness even as the possessing entity controlled their voice and actions. Severus dismissed these variants as well. He had not felt anyone move him about like a puppet.

" _Serpensortia,"_ Severus said. A large cobra appeared on the floor in front of him. **"** **Can you understand me?"** he asked.

 **"** **Yes,"** the snake replied.

Severus paled. With a wave of his wand, he banished the snake. The parseltongue phrases he had requested from Potter had been entirely unrelated: Open, Stop, Help. Mimicking the strange hissing sounds for these should have no bearing on learning parseltongue itself.

 _Could even a temporary connection to a horcrux result in this? Dumbledore stated that Miss Weasley was able to open the Chamber of Secrets while possessed. She was a parselmouth while under the Dark Lord's control. Could she be one still, even with the link long since severed? Could this explain Potter's ability as well, if he came into fleeting contact with a horcrux at some point previously? He supposedly wrote in the diary horcrux at least once. Was this before or after the incident at the Dueling Club?_

 _I need to determine if Weasley remains proficient in parseltongue. If she is, then that would suggest that the language is a permanent side-effect of interaction with the Dark Lord's horcruxes. If she is not . . . but that might only be due to the destruction of the diary, not definitive proof of possession or lack thereof._

With a flash of flame, Hellspawn appeared in the bedroom, interrupting Severus's thoughts.

 _"_ _Gellert says that the raid went well,"_ Hellspawn said.

"That is unsurprising, as precautions were in place to prevent Black's involvement," Severus replied drily. "Did he learn anything of value?"

 _"_ _No. He complained that the executioner didn't even own a single worthwhile book."_

Severus nodded absently, mind returning to the implications of his sudden knowledge of parseltongue. Hellspawn had saved him from possession once before. He would not risk losing himself for the sake of his pride. "I can speak parseltongue," he stated.

 _"_ _Well, good. You've been practicing with that ridiculous box long enough,"_ Hellspawn replied.

"You misunderstand. I am now _fluent_ in parseltongue."

 _"_ _That is unexpected."_

"Quite."

Hellspawn tilted his head slightly. _"No, you don't seem possessed. I'm not feeling anything too unusual through our bond. You're angry a lot, but you're always angry a lot."_ He ruffled his feathers in the avian equivalent of a shrug. _"_ _The bond is more empathy than telepathy, though. I'd suggest lowering your shields to make it easier for me, but that might just make things worse if there is some residual horcrux influence at play. Or there's nothing wrong, and dropping your shields will wreak havoc with your equilibrium, and I'll find you bleeding out from_ sectumsempra _or something. Again. Just destroy the blasted Rod as soon as you can confirm it's safe."_

As always, Severus felt a pang at the thought of destroying the Rod of Paracelsus. _"And now you're replacing anger with temptation. Very nice."_ Severus growled. _"_ _And back to anger. I dream of the day I actually feel something_ happy _through our bond."_

Severus sneered. "Are you certain that you are the same phoenix that stalked me for so many blasted years? You should surely know that _happiness_ is the furthest thing from my mind."

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Hellspawn said sadly, _"I know."_

"I am going to bed. Go and tell Gellert about the parseltongue. Unless he can think of any alternatives, I will be speaking with the youngest Weasley tomorrow about the effects of her possession by the diary horcrux. Something that would be wise to do in any event."

-DVDVDV-

"Detention, Weasley, my office. Now!" Snape snapped. "Corner, detention with Filch tonight."

"What? We didn't do anything!" Ginny protested.

"In the future, keep your disgusting displays of affection private," Snape sneered. He stalked down the corridor, robes billowing around him. "Come."

Still seething, Ginny followed him through the halls to his office in the dungeon. _It wasn't even that bad – just a quick kiss._ Snape slammed open his office door and gestured angrily for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk. She stomped over and sat, glaring at him as he cast some spells on the door and then turned back to sit in his chair on the other side of the desk.

"Miss Weasley," he began, and Ginny was surprised by the lack of a sneer in his voice. "I require some information from you."

"What?" she asked, confused as her mind desperately tried to shift gears. _This detention was just a ploy to question me?_ Ginny remembered what Fred and George had said about Snape lecturing them after they had pranked Umbridge. _Maybe there's something else going on. Is Michael involved with something dangerous?_

And now Snape did sneer. "As a first year student, you were possessed by a cursed object. I need to know as many details about your symptoms as you can recall."

Ginny felt herself go pale. "Why?" She hated any memory of what had happened to her.

"Because, Miss Weasley, your situation might not be unique. There is another individual experiencing unusual symptoms after contact with a different artifact cursed by the Dark Lord. Fortunately, his physical connection to the object in question was severed almost immediately, but we need to know if there are any effects beyond the obvious that we should be looking for."

Ginny began to tremble. _There are more of those things?_ "Destroy it," she said. "Just – just destroy it."

"Yes, thank you, Miss Weasley. That solution would never have occurred to us," Snape drawled. "Suffice it to say that doing so is not immediately within our power. And now, your symptoms?"

She licked her lips nervously, and then nodded. She could not let anyone else suffer as she had. "I got tired a lot. More tired as the year went on. I'd black out sometimes, wake up somewhere else. It – it drained the strength from me. I got paler." She paused, lost in memory. "Um . . . I lost my appetite towards the end. Casting spells seemed harder later in the year than in the beginning, and it was easier again in second year. That's it."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "And the parseltongue?"

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably. "I can't remember it. I know I must have used it to open the Chamber, but I don't actually _remember_ doing it."

Snape removed a box from his pocket. _How did it even fit in there?_ He set it on his desk.

"This box only responds to parseltongue," he said. "Open it."

Ginny glared at him. "I'm not a parselmouth," she snapped. "I'm not possessed anymore. I'm not evil."

Snape sneered at her. "Parseltongue is a _language_ , you fool. It is neither good nor evil. And this is your detention. Open the box."

"I can't!"

"Then you will remain here for quite some time, Miss Weasley."

She stared at the box. _I won't. I'm not a parselmouth. I won't do it. I_ can't _do it._ "I can't," she said again.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Miss Weasley, a person's life is at stake here. We truly need to know if there are any residual effects of one's interaction with these artifacts. The individual in question was not previously a parselmouth, but recently discovered that he now has the ability. We must ascertain whether or not he is in danger of being further influenced by the Dark Lord. If so, he must be confined for his safety and that of others. Or would you have an innocent victim imprisoned despite him posing no threat?"

 _Oh._ Ginny hesitated. This was not fair. She should not have to worry about ruining some other person's life. But if she could prevent someone else from suffering what she did . . . . "What do I do?" she asked softly.

"Simply say 'open' in parseltongue."

"Open," she said. "Open. Open. Open!"

After several minutes, she began to grow frustrated. "I don't think I can open it," she said. _And wasn't that a relief._ "Sir," she added belatedly.

"Try again," Snape insisted. He conjured a small garter snake. "Perhaps seeing an actual serpent might assist in your efforts."

 **"** **Osspen,"** she said. She jumped slightly as she heard a hissing sound. _No!_ Ginny thought desperately. Eyes wide, she glanced at Snape, whose face was a stoic mask.

"Again, Miss Weasley."

Reluctantly, she looked back at the small snake. **"** **Opnesss. Open."** At the third attempt, she heard a _click._ The box had opened.

"Well done, Miss Weasley. You may go. Do not speak of this with anyone, including Potter and his cronies."

 _Of course not. I don't want them to think that I could be . . . not again._ "What does this mean?" Ginny asked, voice trembling.

"Simply that there is a beneficial side effect to your contact with the cursed diary."

"I don't want this!" she shouted.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do not be a fool. Parseltongue is a _language_ , not an affliction. Being able to converse with snakes may or may not ever prove useful, but it will hardly be detrimental. If you are merely concerned about something as petty as your _reputation_ , simply do not advertise your proficiency," he sneered. "Dismissed."

She fled the office.

A/N:

In DH, Ron was able to mimic Harry's parseltongue in order to open the Chamber of Secrets. For this fic, I'm operating under the theory that it was prolonged contact with the locket horcrux that allowed him to do so, since that makes more sense than Ron – who had difficulty pronouncing "wingarium leviosa" correctly – somehow being able to mimic parseltongue perfectly after only hearing Harry use it a few times.

Please review!


	88. Chapter 88

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 88**

On Sunday morning, safe in his bed in Gryffindor tower, Harry dreamt.

"We are gathered here to show the proper place for those who dare oppose usss," Harry hissed. "They take Walden McNair from ussss, and we shall respond in kind." Around him, cheers rose up from the assembled figures, dressed in hooded black robes and wearing faceless silver masks. "Bring out the mugglesss."

One of the Death Eaters broke ranks and exited the ballroom. He returned a few seconds later, leading ten cowering men and women clad in muggle clothing. The crowd buzzed with excitement.

"You shall each have your turn," Harry promised his watching followers. He pointed to one figure. "Begin."

The Death Eater bowed low and took a step forward. Raising his wand, he cast a _crucio_ at one of the muggles, a short, plump woman wearing a flowery nightgown. She screamed, falling to the floor. The other muggles shrank back, whimpering, even as the gathered Death Eaters laughed. The next Death Eater also cast a _crucio_ , as did the next. The fourth used a lung inversion hex, killing the muggle after a single gurgling shriek. It continued down the row until all of the muggles were dead.

"And now, my faithful servantsss have brought a final offering to appease true justice!" Harry proclaimed. "Avery, bring out our special guest."

One of the hooded figures bowed and exited the room, returning a few moments later with a floating, unconscious man in his late seventies, dressed in the bright red robes of an auror. The assembled Death Eaters hissed and jeered as Avery guided the floating body to the center of the crowd.

" _Ennervate,_ " Harry said coldly. The auror suddenly jerked awake. With a casual wave of his hand, Harry dismissed the _mobilicorpus_ spell. The man fell clumsily to the floor, and the Death Eaters laughed. "Gawain Robardsss, deputy head of the auror office. You are accused of persecuting the fine men and women who stand before you. But Lord Voldemort is merciful. Join usss, and we shall spare you."

Robards, pale-faced and trembling, spat on the ground in front of Harry's feet. As one, his Death Eaters screamed their rage at his insolence. "You dare!" Harry hissed furiously. " _Crucio!_ " Robards screamed. A moment later, Harry released the curse. Turning to his followers, he said, "Such disrespect can only have one reward. Severussss, step forward. You are a professor. Teach this fool proper mannersss." He smiled coldly. "Avery, return his wand. Let him know the depthsss of his folly."

Avery roughly thrust an ash wand at the auror, who was still picking himself up off the ground. The residual tremors from the brief _cruciatus_ had already begun to fade. As he stood, one of the masked figures stepped forward. Severus. His faithful pet would put on a glorious show, Harry did not doubt.

"If you can defeat Severussss, I shall let you go," Harry said.

"Traitor," Robards spat. "So much for Dumbledore's assurances."

The Death Eaters laughed. "I am loyal to my master," Severus replied. Although he spoke barely above a whisper, his voice carried across the room. He inclined his head a tiny fraction in a mockery of a traditional dueling bow. Robards did not bother to reciprocate, and flung a non-verbal hex at him. Severus lazily conjured a silent shield. The hex rebounded, barely missing Robards. Severus _tsked_ softly. "A pity. It appears that auror training is not as impressive as I have been led to believe." Laughter again filled the hall.

Robards cast another spell. Severus stepped neatly aside, and it missed. "Not much of a challenge," he drawled, sounding bored.

" _Diffindo!_ " Robards shouted, but the cutting hex fizzled as Severus merely raised another shield.

"Pathetic," he sneered. With a tiny flick of his wand, Severus summoned something that resembled purple fire and hurled it towards Robarts. Harry was not familiar with the spell, and wondered if it were a new invention. He did so love his pet's little toys. Robards hastily raised his own shield, and there was a loud crackling sound as the spell hit. The shield flickered. Odd echoing whispers filled the room, and Robards was briefly outlined in the purple light. As a second spell from Severus hit the man, the light faded, and the whispering voices stilled.

Robards screamed as his skin turned red and raw. Harry laughed, high and cold. Severus had hit the auror with a spell normally used to scour grime from surfaces.

Severus immediately cast two more spells. Robards blocked the first, but the second hit. Again, the auror screamed. His fingernails fell to the floor. Avery whispered excitedly to his neighbor, "My wife uses that to peel potatoes." The Death Eaters around him laughed.

With a sudden slashing gesture, Robards cast a _reducto_ at Severus, who reflected it. The auror easily dodged the rebounded hex, and the ground next to him exploded as the spell hit. Bits of rubble grazed a few of the watching Death Eaters, but did little damage to them. Severus conjured a rope and flung it from him like a whip. Robards jumped to the side, preventing it from wrapping around his legs. The motion upset his concentration, though, and Severus's next spell hit.

Robards' eyeballs popped out of their sockets. He howled and staggered blindly. "An apple-coring charm!" Rabastan Lestrange cackled. "Snape's beating him with common household charms!"

"They'll kill you someday. You might stop me. You might stop my successor. But they'll kill you someday, Vol- Voldemort," Robards rasped, his voice defiant despite his pain. "The thunder comes after the lightning."

With a casual flick of Severus's wand, soapsuds appeared in Robards' mouth, forcing him to cough. Severus strode over to the auror, whose arms flailed out in a pathetic attempt to hit his opponent. He easily sidestepped the swing and casually petrified Robards. He then picked the eyes up from the ground, and stuffed one down the immobile man's throat. He placed the other in Robards' mouth, and, with a bored tap of his wand, transfigured it into an apple.

"A stuffed pig!" Rookwood cried.

Severus conjured a clothespin and pinched Robards' nose with it. He took the rope he previously conjured, and with a wave of his wand, it tied itself around the auror's hands, binding them. He released the petrification. Robarts tried to cough, and then shuddered as he choked. His face turned blue. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

A minute later, Robards was dead, and the Death Eaters roared their approval.

And Harry awoke with a scream.

A/N:

Gawain Robards was (in canon) the head of the auror office after Scrimgeour became Minister. In Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_ , Gawain's ghost appears to King Arthur before his final, fatal battle with Mordred, warning him that he will die if he fights that day. Arthur does not heed the warning.

Also, I'm planning on only mentioning this once, but there will be character deaths later in the fic. I dislike "warning: character death" notices at the beginning of chapters people die in, since they spoil the surprise. Therefore, please consider this the notice for any future chapters. Characters will die. Some of them may be characters you care about. No, I will not reveal who lives and who dies. All I'll say is that the final death list will not be identical to the one in canon.

Please review!


	89. Chapter 89

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 89**

"Gray-eyed Athena," Harry said to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmistress's office. Although he had refused to tell them what he had seen, Ron and Hermione flanked him on either side. Hermione at least was dressed, having woken up early to get some homework done, but he and Ron were still wearing their pajamas. Fortunately, most students slept in on the weekends, so not many people had seen them as they made their way to the office.

Harry knew that he must look pale and terrible, and he could feel cold sweat running across his body. He needed to see McGonagall, to tell her about his vision as he had promised Mordred he would. He needed to tell her about Snape, needed to understand his conflicting visions. _Snape is supposed to be on our side! How can he be killing aurors for Voldemort_?

The gargoyle did not move. Harry tried again, without success. "She must have changed the password," Harry said, slightly dazed. To the gargoyle, he said, "Please, could you let me up? Or else let McGonagall know I'm here?"

"Oh, I forgot!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed. Harry turned to her. "Ron, you remember what Professor McGonagall said at the prefects' meeting last week? She'll be away from Hogwarts today to speak with the Board of Governors. She said she didn't know when she might be back, since it depends on how many items of business the governors wanted to discuss."

Ron blinked. "Was that today?" He yawned. "Might still be here, though. It's still pretty early."

Hermione shook her head. "It must be almost nine by now. I don't think she'll be here." She looked anxiously at Harry. "Harry, I really think that you should go and see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry shook his head. "No, I was told to tell McGonagall or Snape immediately if I had another vision."

"Tell Snape then," Hermione replied sensibly.

"No!" Harry snapped. More calmly, he added, "I can't. Look, you know I shouldn't be sharing details with you guys, no matter how much I want to."

"But –"

"He's not here, okay?" _And even if he were, I'm not about to go up to him and say "hey, by the way, I saw you horribly kill a trained auror in front of Voldemort and a bunch of other Death Eaters."_

Hermione paled and began to tremble. "He wasn't – wasn't being tortured again, was he?"

"Hermione, drop it," Ron said unexpectedly. "Harry says he can't talk about it." As the others turned to him in surprise, he shrugged, embarrassed. He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I don't like that you're keeping stuff from us, but even Fred and George sort of get it after what happened with Bill and Si- Snuffles. If Snuffles had stunned someone else instead of him, Bill would've been one of the ones there when everything went wrong. Maybe he'd have gotten caught, too."

Hermione reluctantly nodded, still looking worried. "What are you going to do, then?" she asked.

Harry paused, and then came to a decision. "I'll write to Mor- to the prince," he decided. "Depending on where he is, Hedwig might be able to get the letter to him before McGonagall gets back."

Back in Gryffindor tower, Harry took a quick shower and changed into his normal clothes. He sat on his bed with the curtains drawn, trying to determine how best to word his letter. After several scratched-out attempts, he surveyed his final product.

 _"_ _Dear Mordred,_

 _"_ _I had another vision. It woke me up a little after eight this morning (Sunday). In it, Voldemort had assembled a bunch of Death Eaters (maybe twenty or thirty?) and had them torturing ten or so muggles. It was pretty brutal, and the muggles didn't survive._

 _"_ _He then had another prisoner brought out, someone called Gawain Robards. Voldemort said that he was a high-ranking auror. He asked Robards to join him, but Robards refused. Voldemort then told Snape to kill him. He gave Robards back his wand, and they dueled. It was pretty clear that Snape was better than Robards, though. He sort of played with him for a few minutes before killing him._

 _"_ _I know that Snape's supposed to be on our side, and I mostly believe it now. When I first woke up, I thought that this was proof that I was wrong, and that he isn't on our side after all. Thinking about it more, I guess he might not have had much of a choice. He couldn't have said no to Voldemort without risking his cover, could he? Or maybe there's something more going on that I don't know about. Either way, I'd like some assurance about what happened, if it wouldn't be too dangerous for me to know._

 _"_ _Sincerely,_

 _"_ _Harry Potter"_

Harry was not completely happy with what he had written, but decided that it was good enough. It was more important to let someone know what had happened than to make sure that the letter was perfect. He tapped the parchment with his wand, murmuring the encryption spell that Hermione had taught him. Unfortunately, he and Mordred had not worked out a decryption key beforehand. After a moment's consideration, Harry folded the letter and sealed it, writing "the half-blood prince" on the top of the envelope. Below that, he scrawled, "English translation of the phrases you asked me for."

Harry saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the common room. Hermione was surrounded by a dozen open textbooks, and Ron was glaring at the parchment in front of him as if it had personally offended him. Harry guessed that they were working on their homework. Their workloads had increased dramatically this year as professors tried to prepare them for their OWLs, and losing Hermione's help with homework was already taking its toll on their free time. Seeing Harry, Ron looked up with relief. "Hey, mate. Off to mail your letter?" Harry nodded. "Mind if I join you? I could use a break." Ron waved a hand at the half-finished essay in front of him.

"Sure. Want to come, too, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Sorry, Harry. I've got thirty inches to write for Runes. Unless you need me?" she asked, glancing up. He shook his head, and he and Ron left the common room.

Naturally, because the universe hated him, they bumped into Malfoy as they rounded a corner towards the stairs leading to the owlry. "Oy, Scarhead," Malfoy snapped. "Watch where you're going." Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckled menacingly, while a fourth boy, whom Harry vaguely recognized as Theodore Nott, frowned.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Ron snapped.

"Wasn't talking to you, Weaselbrain," Malfoy sneered.

Ron drew his wand angrily, but Harry put a calming hand on his arm. _Clouds in the sky. Breathe in, breathe out._ "Sorry, Malfoy. Didn't see you there. Come on, Ron," he said. Ron shot him a betrayed look, but lowered his wand. Scowling, he followed Harry a few steps down the hall.

"What's that?" Nott said suddenly. Harry turned in surprise to see Nott pointing at the letter in his hand. The tension in the corridor suddenly mounted, and the Slytherins' faces hardened noticeably. "What are you doing with Master Snape's mail?"

A/N: Please review!


	90. Chapter 90

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter** **90**

Minerva was already in a foul mood when she heard the commotion coming from the corridor. Although no fault of his own, Snape's pendant had flared around four o'clock in the morning, notifying her that he was being summoned. She had been unable to hall back asleep, and had tried to distract herself by preparing for the meeting of the Board of Governors due to be held in a few hours. Naturally, no sooner had she arrived there than she was informed that the meeting was cancelled. Lucius Malfoy was, apparently, indisposed. _Meaning that he, like Severus, had been summoned and had yet to return._

She flooed back to Hogwarts, reading over the Ministry's request to bring Harry Potter to the auror office so that he could give a deposition about what had happened in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. _About time,_ she thought bitterly. It had been weeks since the Hogsmeade incident, when the Ministry had been forced to admit You-Know-Who's return. Somewhat to her surprise, the request was being put forward by the Bulgarian delegation, not Fudge. Judging by Umbridge, the minister was desperately trying to ingratiate himself with Potter. Unfortunately, he appeared equally determined to hide that he had previously been made aware of You-Know-Who's return. Minerva resolved to discuss the request with Potter and to offer to accompany him to the Ministry should he prove amenable.

Next, she reviewed the reports of Grubbly-Plank's lessons. Students were finding Care of Magical Creatures significantly more educational - and enjoyable - with her as a substitute. Minerva was strongly tempted to offer her the position permanently, even if Hagrid did return soon and somehow passed his probationary review. She shook her head. _No, the formalities are there for a reason. Albus might have been able to get away with skipping over them, but I won't._ Grubbly-Plank had been a Gryffindor, too, and Minerva was considering her as a potential Head of House should the governors appoint her as the next official headmistress.

And then Snape had returned and given his report. Minerva felt thankful that he bore no obvious signs of injury this time, but her relief was short-lived as she listened.

"Gawain's dead?" she repeated, feeling numb. He had played keeper for Gryffindor back when she was still in school, and she remembered nursing a crush on him as a blushing fourth year student. To her knowledge, he had never known, and she had outgrown it after a year or so. "How did he die?"

"Badly," Snape replied shortly. He paused, and then added, "I killed him."

Minerva flinched. She could not help it, although she regretted it immediately. She knew that Snape had to play his part as a Death Eater, and that keeping his cover was more important than the life of one auror, especially as it sounded like there had been no way to save him. Snape could have dueled the others in the room in an attempt to rescue him, but that would only have caused both men to die. _Die sooner,_ Minerva remembered sadly. Snape had not had another attack in her presence since that dinner in the Great Hall, but she did not delude herself by imagining that he did not suffer in private. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you didn't have a choice."

Minerva knew that she could never have done what Snape did. She would have raised her wand in defiance and taken out as many Death Eaters as she could before being killed herself. _Does that make him a better or worse person than I am? Severus's actions will certainly save more lives in the end. My moral stand would have been a grand gesture, but ultimately futile._

Snape nodded, and Minerva got the sense that he felt grateful to her for her willingness to accept the necessity of his actions. _Did Albus lecture him when something like this happened?_ Minerva could easily imagine it. "He will not become an inferius." Snape said that as if it would be a comfort. Minerva guessed that this meant that he had mutilated the body. Perhaps it was the best that he could do under the circumstances. She decided not to ask, reminding herself that what happened was not his fault. _Do not blame the wand for the crimes of the wizard._ "His body should be discovered soon. The Dark Lord wanted to send a message. He was . . . displeased by McNair's disappearance."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, "During our duel, I hit Robards with a subliminal message related to the false prophecy. He acted on it, defying the Dark Lord with his last breath. Should he retrieve the decoy in the Hall of Prophecies, Robards' final words should corroborate what he hears then." _He's letting me know that Gawain did not die in vain,_ Minerva realized. _He is definitely not as heartless as he likes to pretend._

Snape had little else to report, and she had dismissed him with instructions to get some sleep. Wishing that she could follow her own advice, she sat thinking in her office, remembering Gawain's easy smile, his cleverness, his skill at quidditch. Sighing, she decided to take a walk to clear her head.

And so when she found four Slytherins pointing their wands at two Gryffindors - one of whom being Harry Potter - she found her patience badly strained. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"We were just going to the owlry, Professor," Potter said. "And they took exception."

"He stole a letter from Master Snape," Nott said, pointing angrily. Minerva's eyes turned to the sealed envelope in Potter's hand.

"I did not!" Potter retorted angrily.

"May I see that letter, Mister Potter?" Minerva asked. He paused a moment, and then handed it to her. _"The half-blood prince. English translation of the phrases you asked me for."_ Minerva guessed that the latter line was the clue for a cipher. The handwriting on the envelope was unmistakably Potter's messy scrawl. She had seen it too many times on his essays not to recognize it now. "I believe you are mistaken, Mister Nott."

"No," Nott said stubbornly. "It's definitely his." The three other Slytherins nodded.

Minerva had never heard the quiet boy sound so confident about anything. She sighed, even as her mind reeled with the implications if he _was_ somehow correct. "It is not addressed to him."

"Yes, it is," Malfoy interjected, sounding angry. "Just ask him if you don't believe us."

"It's addressed to the 'half-blood prince.' That's Master Snape," Nott added.

 _What?_ Minerva blinked, and Potter and Weasley stared at Nott in surprise. Then Weasley laughed. "You're off your rocker."

Minerva frowned. "And what makes you believe that?" she asked Nott.

He tilted his head, looking at her incredulously. "Everyone knows that," he said, sounding surprised that she apparently did not. Next to him, Malfoy sneered in agreement. Even Crabbe and Goyle nodded. "His mother was from the Prince family. I can't remember her name, but she married a muggle and got disinherited."

"Eileen Prince," Malfoy added confidently. "Her family disowned her in 1955 for marrying a muggle."

"Right," Nott said. "So Master Snape is the half-blood Prince, even if his family refuses to acknowledge it."

"Idiots," Malfoy muttered. Nott nodded.

"Wait, you don't care that he's a half-blood?" Weasley exclaimed. If Minerva had not still been struggling with the implications of the Slytherins' revelation, she would have reprimanded him. _None of the other Weasleys were this dense. How did Molly and Arthur miss drilling any social sense into this one?_

Nott shrugged even as Malfoy sneered, "He's _Snape,"_ as if that somehow explained everything.

Minerva felt light-headed. _How had Albus failed to find this out? He said that he checked the genealogical records. But then, if Eileen Prince had been disinherited, she might retroactively be removed from the family trees . . . ._

 _Merlin, Severus is Mordred! But I saw the two of them together . . . ._

 _No,_ she realized, _I saw someone polyjuiced who_ claimed _to be Mordred. That could easily have been Grindelwald or another person entirely._

Aloud, she said, "Thank you, Mister Nott, Mister Malfoy. I will overlook this offense for the moment, but see that you and Misters Crabbe and Goyle do not threaten classmates in the future, regardless of the provocation. Next time, inform a professor, and one of us will handle it. Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, come with me. We can return this letter to its rightful owner."

"But-" Potter began, but he cut off after a glare from her. All told, she was impressed that he had kept his temper and his silence as well as he had. _Perhaps those occlumency lessons are finally making a difference._

She led them down to the dungeons and to Snape's office. She knocked briskly on the door, but heard no response. _He might be in his quarters. I did tell him to get some sleep._ she tried the door, but it was locked. Sighing slightly, she summoned her patronus and sent it to him. A few minutes later, Snape opened the door, looking annoyed.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Let us in, Severus. We need to talk."

A/N:

Since it might not have been clear, the subliminal message spell was the purple fire spell that Snape cast early in his duel with Robards.

Please review!


	91. Chapter 91

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 91**

After wordlessly tapping the unopened letter, Minerva nodded pointedly in the direction of Snape's living quarters. The discussion she wanted to have with him was not for students to hear. Snape had paled, and then nodded curtly. He stalked over to the far wall and whispered something too faintly for her to hear. One of the rows of shelves moved aside, and a moment later the door behind it opened as well. Potter and Weasley watched with wide eyes. Minerva left them in Snape's office with firm instructions to remain there, silent, and to touch nothing. She then followed Snape inside his sitting room, even as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Despite herself, Minerva was appalled by what she saw. All Hogwarts professors were given a spacious, grand sitting room, a magnificent bedroom, and a bathroom that put the luxurious prefects' bath to shame. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom were closed, but the sitting room was neither as grand nor as spacious as she had anticipated. It was certainly large, but that was the best that could be said for it.

For all that Snape's office was filled with deliberately creepy specimens in jars, it was utterly pristine. His sitting room was not. Books and sheaves of parchment lay scattered throughout the room, haphazardly piled in uneven stacks over the floor. Minerva could barely navigate a path through the room. Even his desk and solitary chair were covered with sprawling piles. Worse, it looked like something had exploded all over one wall, and the air in the room smelled strongly of burnt rubber.

The purpose of her visit temporarily forgotten, Minerva asked, concerned, "Severus, did someone break into your quarters?" She had a horrible mental image of Death Eaters coming to search his rooms while he had been summoned, ransacking them for some evidence of disloyalty.

"What?" Snape snapped. He glanced around the room. "No, of course not."

 _It is usually like this? Why wouldn't he just summon a house elf if he can't be bothered to clean?_ With a slight feeling of shock, she realized that she could not recall ever entering Snape's personal quarters before, despite their many years working together. The room's state of utter disarray suggested something to Minerva, something important that hovered just outside her conscious grasp. She felt certain, without being able to articulate how, that it was related to Snape's personal appearance, to how he kept his fusty black robes with their many tiny buttons utterly immaculate, and yet allowed his hair to remain lank and greasy.

Realizing that she had let herself get distracted, she shook her head, trying to clear it. _It would be easier if I had gotten more sleep. Or if I hadn't just learned about Gawain. . . ._ She blinked, fighting back tears. To distract herself from the sudden wave of emotion, she looked around the room until she finally found a small patch of clear floor beside a teetering stack of books. She conjured a simple wooden chair and sat on it, trying to ignore the open volume topping the stack to her left. She did _not_ want to know why Snape was reading about passionate love charms of the Caribbean. "This going to be a long conversation, and I will not have you looming over me. Sit." _If you can find somewhere clean, at least._

Snape glared. Minerva guessed that he was annoyed to be ordered about in his own sitting room. After a moment, when she did not relent, he turned and conjured a tall stool for himself. He expertly set it around one of the smaller piles of books and then perched on it. Minerva forbore to inform him that he resembled an oversized crow.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I believe," she replied tartly, "that that should have been my line" She handed him the letter. "Would you care to explain why Misters Malfoy and Nott believe that you are the 'half-blood prince'? They were rather adamant about it, in fact. They went so far as to accuse Mister Potter of stealing your correspondence."

"And they shall be commended for their loyalty to their Head of House. Was there something else?"

"Am I to understand that it is common knowledge in Slytherin that you are the so-called Prince?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I have repeatedly stated the folly of having only one Slytherin in the Order of the Phoenix. I believe that this aptly proves my point."

Minerva pursed her lips. "How much do they know. _Why_ do they even know it?"

Snape snorted derisively. "You precious operational security - such as it is - remains intact. My dorm mates dubbed me 'the half-blood Prince' while I was still a student. It was not intended as a compliment, incidentally." Minerva could believe that. Slytherin was not known for being kind to half-bloods, especially impoverished half-bloods during You-Know-Who's first rise. "It is hardly surprising that my students know of it, as their parents and siblings would no doubt recall the title. As my surname is not an established one, my blood status has always been a topic of conversation with them, generally when they think I am not listening." Minerva wondered what, exactly, they made of his blood status. Malfoy and Nott seemed content to overlook it. _Did they see him as the exception that proved the pureblood rule?_

Minerva shook her head. She was getting sidetracked again. "They do not know you are Mordred," she said. That seemed clear, but she was too wary to risk leaving it merely implied.

"Of course not. They do not know that 'Mordred' exists, beyond the prominent historical figure. I doubt they would make the connection without far more information."

"Why?" she asked.

Snape scowled. "Why what, specifically?"

"Why become Mordred? Why not tell the truth to Albus at the end of June, when he first asked you?"

Snape's scowl deepened. "To answer the latter question first, it was because he lied to me. He spun some ridiculous nonsense about impeccable sources informing him that the Dark Lord sought to enlist me. He declined to provide any more details, and I refused to assist without more context.

"To answer your first question, surely that is obvious? It was my _choice._ Whether it be for good or ill remains to be seen." Minerva caught the emphasis on the word, and paled as she connected it to the line in the prophecy. "I could no longer work with the Order as myself, given my treatment and their rampant mistrust. Mordred, however, was an unknown party who - due to that ridiculous prophecy of Trelawney's - Dumbledore would have no choice but to listen to."

Minerva nodded. That was much as she had expected, thinking over the situation on her walk to the dungeons. "And Mister Potter's occlumency lessons?"

Snape shrugged. "Gellert." Minerva noted the use of the man's first name. Previously, Snape had always referred to him as "Lord Grindelwald" outside of his Mordred disguise. "We concluded that he would be better suited teaching the basics. Should Potter manage to construct shields of more than the meanest strength, I might eventually take over his lessons." Minerva had to admit that, if Snape's potions classes were any indication of what his occlumency lessons would have been like, their assessment was certainly correct. The man had no skill whatsoever at teaching introductory techniques.

There was a brief flash of flame, and suddenly Hellspawn was in the room. He looked beadily at Minerva for a moment, and then trilled something.

"Obviously," Snape drawled. "Although if she did not, your sudden arrival would surely have been a clue."

The phoenix trilled again.

"I could always try substituting tar for rubber. I understand it traditionally goes well with feathers."

And again, the phoenix trilled. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "As is pyromania. It would appear that we are well-suited for one another." Minerva wondered what, exactly, Hellspawn had said to elicit such odd responses. Sighing, he turned to her and asked, "What are you going to do now?"

Minerva knew that she should tell Dumbledore. And yet, the Damned had done more in the last month than the Order had done since You-Know-Who's return. Dumbledore had resisted their every move, and she could not help but side with the Damned on almost every point. "I don't know yet," she admitted.

A/N:

Please review!


	92. Chapter 92

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 92**

There was a brief flash of flame, and suddenly Hellspawn was in the room. _And now my nightmare is complete,_ Severus thought. Hellspawn stared beadily at McGonagall for a moment, and then said, _"So, she's finally figured out that you're Mordred, then?_

"Obviously," Severus drawled. "Although if she did not, your sudden arrival would surely have been a clue."

 _"I leave your ridiculously boring quarters for a few hours, and something interesting actually happens in them. And there I was, thinking that dodging bouncing balls would be the height of excitement here."_

"I could always try substituting tar for rubber. I understand it traditionally goes well with feathers."

 _"Cruelty to animals is a warning sign of sociopathy, you know."_

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "As is pyromania. It would appear that we are well-suited for one another." Sighing, he turned to McGonagall and asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know yet," she admitted.

He nodded. "Naturally, I would prefer that you do not inform anyone else."

 _"I knew it! You_ are _ashamed of me,"_ Hellspawn interjected.

"Yes," Severus agreed. To McGonagall, he added, "And that you allow me to deal with Potter and Weasley." She frowned, lips pursing, and he raised a placating hand. "Only to speak with them. I do not believe in _obliviating_ children." _Unlike Dumbledore._ "Memory charms risk damaging what little cognitive functions they possess, and neither Potter nor Weasley have enough to spare."

McGonagall frowned at the insult to her students, but did not comment. He watched as she considered his words. Finally, she spoke. "Severus, what _are_ your plans? I can accept, and perhaps even understand, why you became Mordred. But I am not entirely blind. You have been doing more than merely opposing You-Know-Who. You have some plans for Albus as well. And perhaps more beyond even that. What are you actually after?"

 _Revenge. To see the world burn. To see the Dark Lord die and Dumbledore fall. To destroy the killers of Lily Evans. To honor my dead._

Severus considered how much to tell her. McGonagall had a lifetime of loyalty to Dumbledore for all that their longstanding rapport had begun to deteriorate recently. Failure to convince her now could lose him most of the gains he had made, not only with her but with the Order as a whole.

"I would see the Dark Lord dead," Severus said softly. "And Albus Dumbledore's crimes known to the world."

"Crimes?" she asked, but with less indignant surprise than he had expected. He took that as a good sign.

Severus chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. "Did you never ask why I became a Death Eater, Minerva? Or did you, like so many, simply assume that I was lost the moment the Sorting Hat cried 'Slytherin'? I never believed in blood purity, not since I was nine years old at least. Sometimes I wonder if the Dark Lord himself does. I admit to a certain personal affinity for the dark arts, and even now I adhere to many of the political beliefs that the Dark Lord espoused in his early days, before the movement became violent. And yet I might have remained neutral, or even joined the forced opposing him, had circumstances been different.

"No, I joined the Dark Lord because I wanted to fight against evil." McGonagall flinched at the bitterness in his tone, the evident self-loathing. "I knew that Dumbledore was evil. I simply did not realize, then, that he was the lesser of two.

"The turning point for me was when _Black_ ," he snarled the name, "decided that I deserved to find myself in a confided space with a transformed werewolf. He ensured that I would overhear something that I could not ignore, something that would compel me to go to the Shrieking Shack on the night of the full moon."

Black had boasted to him that Potter would be bringing Lily there that night, that Potter would finally "have his way with the frigid bitch." Earlier that same day, Severus had overheard Black bragging to Potter about how easy it was to bypass the Whomping Willow by pressing the knot on its trunk. In a panic, Severus had tried to find Lily, to warn her about what Potter had planned, but she had been holed up in Gryffindor tower. Her other friends loathed him, and they refused to tell her that he was looking for her. He had tried to tell Slughorn, but his Head of House only gave him detention for slandering the handsome, popular, wealthy James Potter. And so Severus had gone to the Shrieking Shack, hoping to save Lily, and instead finding the fully transformed Lupin.

Dumbledore had never even asked what Black had said to make Severus fall for the so-called prank, what had convinced him when he was usually so suspicious of the Marauders. He could not tell that part to McGonagall. He could not talk about Lily. Just thinking about her caused Severus to feel a stab of pain. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to banish the sensation. After a pause, he reopened them.

"And when I was inevitably mauled by that werewolf, and brought to the headmaster's office, I learned that Black would not be charged. He would not be expelled, or even suspended. Yet if I spoke to anyone about what I had seen, if I admitted how my chest had been ripped open, if I warned others to avoid the Shrieking Shack on the full moon, then _I_ would be the one expelled, and my memories modified," Severus continued. "To Dumbledore, my life was worth only a few detentions. That was the day that I decided to become a Death Eater."

"And this was hardly a lone incident, simply the most extreme during my time as a student. By now, you must be aware of his early plotting with Gellert. For all that they parted ways before Gellert began his campaign, Dumbledore would have known enough to stop his rise far earlier had he wished. You know what Dumbledore did to me this summer. I suspect that, if you truly stopped to consider it, you could find dozens – if not hundreds – of other incidents," Severus said. "I accept responsibility for my misdeeds. In the unlikely event that I survive this war, I fully expect to go to Azkaban. It is only right that Dumbledore accept culpability for _his_ crimes, that he be judged for what _he_ has wrought."

McGonagall had turned pale as Severus spoke. By the end, she looked faintly ill. "Severus, I – I did not know. I knew that you had seen Lupin as a student, but not – not the specifics. If I had . . . ." She broke off, shaking her head. "I do not believe you deserve Azkaban."

"I have cast all three of the Unforgivables on humans. I have invented – and taught others – new dark curses. I am a dark wizard, Minerva. I will go to Azkaban, or our justice system is irrevocably flawed."

"Our justice system _is_ irrevocably flawed," she snapped back. "And when we win, we will change it for the better. You are a good man, Severus Snape. And I will not let anyone forget it. Not even you."

Severus inclined his head, letting his hair hide his face. He was touched – and highly embarrassed – by her vehemence on his behalf. "Again, I ask, what will you do?"

McGonagall paused. "Promise me that you do not intend to kill Albus."

"I promise," he replied at once. Dumbledore did not fear his own death. Killing him would not be a true punishment.

"Then I see no need to inform him of what I have learned today."

 _"I like her,"_ Hellspawn said.

"Hellspawn approves of you," Severus said drily, noticing McGonagall's inquiring look.

Her lips twitched. "How did you ever get a phoenix, Severus? If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that you released that boggart you bottled."

 _"I resent that! You didn't get a phoenix. I got a wizard."_

 _I tried to commit suicide and the dratted bird saved me._ Somehow, Severus doubted that she would appreciate hearing that. "As I mentioned at Grimmauld Place, phoenixes are attracted to the true remorse of powerful dark wizards. He approached me shortly after the Dark Lord's initial defeat."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You've been bonded for that long?"

"No. I refused –" Severus broke off as he felt a stabbing pain in his eyes. Minerva drew in a sharp intake of breath, and an instant later, he felt something wet and warm slide down his cheek. Closing his eyes tightly, he brought a handkerchief up to clean his face. A moment later, the pain subsided, and he reopened them. His white handkerchief was smeared with blood. _Fantastic,_ Severus thought bitterly. _At least the attack wasn't in the Great Hall this time._ He doubted he would be able to hide his deterioration for much longer. As it was, it was a minor miracle that only McGonagall had noticed how ill he was. _It could have been much worse. If it happened when I was summoned, or while I was polyjuiced as Mordred . . . ._

McGonagall watched with concern as he stood abruptly from the stool and expertly navigated his way across the room to a small cabinet. He opened it, removing Prince's Kiss and a Capillary Cleanser. He drank them both, and then turned back to glare at McGonagall, daring her to comment.

She was a Gryffindor. She dared. "Severus, is there anything –"

"No," he replied shortly. "Nothing."

She sighed. "Very well. But if there is, you will let me know, won't you?"

He ignored her question. "If there is nothing else, perhaps we should go and speak with Potter and Weasley." He paused a moment. "After I read the letter." He glanced down at it. _At least the brat was clever enough to encrypt it._ "Open. Stop. Help," he said. Fortunately, he did not accidently lapse into parseltongue, as he feared he might. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he quickly scanned the contents. "Potter had a vision of this morning's summons," he informed her, resealing the letter with a tap of his wand.

McGonagall cursed under her breath. "And here I thought he was making progress with his occlumency lessons."

"I warned you that he might never be able to master it."

"Yes, you did," she admitted. "And Mordred – or Lord Grindelwald, I suppose – did say that he was seeing some improvement, at least." She sighed, rising from her chair and vanishing it with a wave of her wand. "Shall we?" she asked, gesturing towards the door. He nodded.

As they made their way out of the room, she commented, "You know, Severus, you are welcome to call a house elf. They'd be delighted to help tidy the place."

 _"See! Someone else agrees with me,"_ Hellspawn said.

Severus scowled. "Cleanliness is next to godliness, Minerva, and I am Damned."

A/N:

Please review!


	93. Chapter 93

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 93**

Harry glanced at Ron as a stern-faced McGonagall practically forced Snape into the hidden room attached to his office. He wished that he could have been included in their discussion, and was momentarily tempted to try the twins' Extendable Ears. He dismissed the thought almost immediately, remembering his commitment not to press for more information than he should have. _Especially since Voldemort could be listening in, too._

It _was_ tempting, though.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied slowly. On the surface, it certainly _seemed_ like Snape was Mordred, at least if the Slytherins were telling the truth. But Ron might easily have misheard or misunderstood his parents when he caught them talking about a 'half-blood prince.' _And Snape was there when Mordred gave me my first occlumency lesson. Anyway, I don't care if he_ is _on our side, there's no way Snape would actually have a phoenix. Besides, Mordred might not be warm and friendly, but he's nowhere near as unreasonable as Snape._

Harry _was_ worried about Snape reading his letter, though. It was not as accusatory as some of his earlier drafts, but it was not exactly glowing, either. And he wasn't sure how he felt about leaving McGonagall alone with him. _That's stupid, though. She's able to take care of herself, and even if Snape is evil after all – and he might not be – he wouldn't be foolish enough to try something and blow his cover._

"Do you think he's, you know, Mordred?" Ron whispered excitedly.

"I don't know," Harry said again. "I don't think he can be. I mean, I saw the two of them together before. I think we should probably just wait quietly for McGonagall to get back, like she said, not leap to any conclusions."

Ron nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. Besides, Snape'd kill us if he heard us talking about him." _Or McGonagall would,_ Harry thought.

And so they waited. Harry looked around the office, examining the various jars and wondering if Snape actually liked being surrounded by so many disgusting, unnerving specimens, or if they were only there to make visitors feel uncomfortable. Finally, the rows of shelves moved aside, and McGonagall and Snape reentered the office.

"Mister Potter," Snape said, voice low and menacing, "should you ever feel compelled to write to Mordred again, I recommend _not_ writing a descriptor of the recipient on the envelope. You are remarkably fortunate that your Head of House was nearby, and that she thought quickly enough to _confund_ my students into thinking that there was some other explanation for what you had written." _Oh. That was pretty clever of her._ Harry was impressed. Judging by Ron's expression, he felt the same way. _Who knew that McGonagall could be such a good actress?_

With a sneer, Snape handed the letter back to Harry, who noticed with some relief that it was still sealed. "I cannot fathom what prompted you to send him a missive in the first place, but surely you could have at least _attempted_ some level of subtlety and discretion."

Harry flushed angrily. He _had_ tried. "So you're not the half-" he began, but he broke off at seeing the murderous expression on Snape's face.

"Do I _look_ like royalty, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Try _thinking_ before you open your mouth in the future. And replace your pathetic excuse for a secret code. Rather than provide clues as to the person's identity, try a random word or name. 'Quill' perhaps, or 'Richard'? Or is that level of subterfuge beyond your limited cognitive abilities?

"As for your punishment, you will each write a two-foot essay on the importance of discretion, explaining what you did wrong and how to improve should you find yourself in a similar situation in the future. You will encrypt your essays, with 'the better part of valor' as the code to unlock them."

"I didn't do anything!" Ron protested. _Thanks, Ron,_ Harry thought bitterly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said coolly. "You were present and did nothing to prevent Potter's folly. Failure to act when needed is no less problematic than acting wrongly."

"Enough, Severus," McGonagall said. "You have made your point. We have established, at least, that Mister Potter did not inadvertently compromise the war effort." _Oh. Was that what they were discussing in the other room?_ Turning to face Harry, she said, "Mister Potter, I needed to speak with you in any case regarding a request from the Ministry. If you would follow me to my office? And Severus, unless you have anything else, I believe that Mister Weasley can be excused as well?" Snape gave an irritated jerk of his head in acknowledgement.

Eager to leave Snape's office and escape his ire, Harry nodded. He and Ron hurried out of the room. Ron gave him an apologetic look as he broke off to return to Gryffindor tower, while he instead followed McGonagall back through the dungeons and up the stairs to the gargoyle guarding her office.

"Ceridwen," McGonagall said to the stone gargoyle. It leapt aside, and Harry took note of the updated password. It reminded him of what he had come to see her about earlier this morning.

At McGonagall's gesture, Harry sat in the chair across from her desk. Before he could mention his vision, she said, "Mister Potter, I have received a request from the Ministry, asking that you present yourself to the auror office tomorrow after your classes. The Bulgarian delegation would like to hear your account of what happened when You-Know-Who returned in June."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Oh. Why are they only asking for this now?"

"I do not know. It is possible that Minister Fudge has been withholding some of the details in order to make his failure to act less apparent," McGonagall replied, her nostrils flaring. "In any event, it is up to you to decide, although I would strongly recommend that you agree. As I told you before, we will need the Ministry's aid to win this war, and there is no reason whatsoever to alienate the Bulgarians now that we are fortunate enough to have received international assistance."

Harry nodded. "Alright. Er, what should I tell them, Professor?"

"The truth, Mister Potter. And as many details as you can recall." She paused. "Professor Umbridge will no doubt wish to accompany you, as she is also Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. However, you have the option to request that I, as your Head of House, come instead, since you are a minor and Hogwarts acts in loco parentis."

Harry had frowned at the mention of Umbridge, but relaxed when McGonagall offered to accompany him instead. "I'd prefer you, Professor, if it's not too much trouble. Thanks." He paused a moment. "Er, Professor, there is something else. I had another vision this morning. I tried coming to your office, but didn't know the password, and then Hermione said that you were off at a governors' meeting or something." McGonagall nodded encouragingly, and Harry described his vision. To his slight shock, she did not appear surprised by his report.

Once he had finished, McGonagall said, "I do hope you recognize, Mister Potter, that Master Snape had no choice but to act as he did? Attempting to rescue Auror Robards would only have cost us our spy, and likely cost him his life." Her voice hitched a bit as she spoke.

Harry nodded reluctantly. "I didn't at first," he admitted. "It was only after I really stopped and thought about it that I could." He paused. "It was horrible what he did, though. Like Snape was just playing with his food. That auror didn't have a chance, not really." He shuddered slightly.

"What _Master_ Snape does is not something I would be able to do, nor is it something that, I think, you would be capable of. That does not, however, mean that we have the moral right to judge him for it. His actions today may save lives tomorrow," she said sternly.

"You already knew about it, didn't you? Before I told you what I saw," Harry accused.

"Master Snape reported to me earlier. He does not sugarcoat what he does for us."

That surprised Harry, but it also made him feel better. It seemed far more believable that Snape was truly on their side if he reported his own role in Voldemort's crimes. "I understand, Professor."

"Oh, and Mister Potter," McGonagall said as Harry was leaving, "I do _not_ recommend informing the Ministry about your visions. You-Know-Who has spies in the Ministry, and it is imperative that we keep your connection from him as long as possible."

A/N:

Ceridwen was a Celtic enchantress who was attended by cats. She had a hideously ugly, crow-like son, whom she tried to help by brewing a potion that would grant him wisdom (and thus some measure of popularity). The potion was, alas, accidentally ingested by another, and Ceridwen's son remained ugly and despised. Modern versions sometimes portray Ceridwen as the Celtic goddess of – among other things – transformation.

Please review!


	94. Chapter 94

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 94**

Harry tried to ignore the stares and whispers from the various Ministry officials as a middle-aged, red-robed auror led him and Professor McGonagall to a large conference room late on Monday afternoon. A dozen men and women were already seated there. Half of them wore red, and several sported somber black bands on the right arms of their robes. They looked very quiet, and Harry wondered if they had found Robards' body yet. The others in the room wore blue, and some of them were speaking in low voices to one another in a language that Harry did not understand. He guessed that these were the Bulgarians.

"Thank you for coming, Mister Potter," said one of the red-robed men, rising to his feet. He looked rather like an old lion. He had streaks of gray in a mane of thick, tawny hair. Even his eyes were vaguely feline, yellowish behind wire-rimmed glasses. As he gestured for Harry to sit at one end of the large table, he moved with an easy, languid grace. He reminded Harry of an odd combination of Mad-Eye Moody and Professor McGonagall. Stern, powerful, and utterly confident in his own abilities. Harry walked self-consciously to the chair indicated, and he sat. A moment later, McGonagall took the chair to his right. Once both were seated, the man returned to his own chair.

"I am Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the British auror office," the man said. He gestured to one of the women in blue, who was seated to his right "This is Azula Gerov, my Bulgarian counterpart. We understand that you encountered You-Know-Who at the end of last June, and would like to know as many details as you can recall. Even seemingly insignificant points might prove helpful in locating him or determining his weaknesses or those of his followers."

Harry nodded, and then took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, but with growing confidence as he went on, he described what happened the night that Cedric Diggory died. When he had finished, the assembled aurors began peppering him with questions.

"This ritual, how many drops of your blood did this man – Vormtail? – use?" asked Gerov. She spoke with a thick accent.

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "Six? No, seven, I think,"

"Did you see any signs of wards around the graveyard?" Scrimgeour asked.

"No, but I'm not really sure what wards would look like," Harry admitted.

"Hmmm," Scrimgeour said, frowning. "How did the ground feel to you?"

"Um," Harry said, trying to remember. "Normal, I think. I wasn't really focused on it, though."

The questioning continued for hours. Scrimgeour and Gerov asked most of the questions, but occasionally one of the other aurors would say something. As it progressed, Harry felt more and more inadequate. _Should I have noticed all these things they are asking about? Is it normal for an auror to be able to take in all of that while fighting for their lives?_

At last, they seemed to run out of questions. "Thank you, Mister Potter," Scrimgeour said, rising to his feet. "We will inform you should we have any further questions. If you recall anything else, send us an owl immediately, even if you feel that it is something trivial."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Scrimgeour held out his hand, and Harry rose to shake it. "You did well," he added gruffly. "I know many fully trained aurors who could not have survived what you did that night. Think about us when you're planning your career."

And suddenly, Harry felt better. He smiled. "Thank you, sir. I will."

"I'll lead you out, shall I?" Scrimgeour said. He guided Harry and McGonagall back through the Ministry halls, which were much emptier than when they had arrived. Harry guessed that it must be close to seven o'clock in the evening now.

They had just reached the atrium when a man's voice called out, "Oh, I say! Harry Potter!"

They turned to see the red-faced form of Cornelius Fudge, wearing his trademark lime green suit and matching bowler hat. It looked a bit rumpled, and he was puffing slightly. Harry wondered if he had run in order to catch them before they left. Standing next to the minister, and looking utterly immaculate in elegant teal robes, was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry scowled. He had warned Fudge in June that Malfoy had rejoined Voldemort. He had informed the aurors again today. Beside him, Scrimgeour frowned slightly, but shook his head minutely in warning. _Clouds in the sky. Breathe in, breathe out._ Harry tried to school his expression into something approaching neutrality. _Maybe they're planning a trap for Malfoy later, and don't want me to spoil it. I hope it's something like that, and not just him spreading bribes._

"Minister Fudge," McGonagall said evenly.

"Good evening, sir," Harry said politely, taking the hint.

"I didn't realize you'd be here today, my boy, or I'd have made sure you had a better welcome," Fudge huffed. "Only just heard."

"It's fine," Harry said, wishing for a way to avoid a conversation. "I was just here to give my statement. No need to make a fuss on my account."

"But I've been meaning to speak with you for weeks now!" Fudge exclaimed, sounding somewhat desperate. "Talk about your plans, you know. Maybe go over the direction you see the war going." _You mean in a nice public location, with reporters nearby?_

"Well," Harry said slowly, glancing between Fudge and Malfoy, "I'm not really sure I'm the best person to ask. I mean, I haven't even taken my OWLs yet. I think you should talk to Dumbledore, not me. He's the one with actual experience fighting a war."

Scrimgeour chuckled slightly, and Fudge frowned. "Your loyalty to your former headmaster is admirable, of course, but surely you must realize that his grip has slipped recently? No fault of his own, I'm sure, but he _is_ getting on in years. Just look at that Nurmengard breakout," he blustered.

Harry felt his temper flare. He fought to keep it under control. _Clouds in the sky._ He forced himself to shrug. "Well, that's my advice, anyway. You don't necessarily have to do what he says, but it can't hurt to listen, can it?"

Before Fudge could say anything else, McGonagall stepped in. "Minister, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I am afraid that we need to return to Hogwarts. Today's excursion took more time that I expected, and I do not want Mister Potter to fall behind on his schoolwork. It is his OWL year, after all." Harry barely managed to stifle a grin.

"Oh, er, yes, of course," Fudge said. "Do, er, let me know if you change your mind, won't you, Harry?"

Harry forced himself to smile. "Of course, sir."

As Scrimgeour led them to an open floo grate, Harry's scar suddenly flared in pain. Voldemort was angry. He winced, rubbing his scar absently. He tossed a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, and called out "Hogwarts – Headmistress's office!" As he vanished in the emerald flames, he saw Lucius Malfoy staring at him with an intrigued, appraising look.

-DVDVDV-

"My Lord," Lucius said, kneeling on the cold floor of the ballroom. His eyes flicked to the unconscious body on the floor in front of him. Rookwood's plan to allow a proxy to retrieve the prophecy on the Dark Lord's behalf had failed, and the Dark Lord had vented his fury on the unfortunate Death Eater. Lucius could only hope that his punishment for being Rookwood's distraction during the attempt would be minimal. They had not been caught, after all. Twenty or even fifteen years ago, that might have been enough. Now, though, the Dark Lord took a more extreme approach to discipline. He had already been punished four times since the Dark's Lord's resurrection. He did not want to make it five.

"You return without the prophecy, Luciusss," the Dark Lord hissed.

"I do, my Lord," he admitted. "But I do not return empty-handed." _Please let this be enough._

"Explain."

"I saw Potter at the Ministry. He was speaking with the aurors, although I do not know the topic. He was accompanied by McGonagall. As he was leaving, he flinched as if he was in pain, and he raised his hand to rub his scar."

The Dark Lord smiled, and Lucius breathed a mental sigh of relief. He might actually return home intact tonight. "And what time wasss thisss?"

"About ten minutes ago, my Lord."

"When I was reprimanding Rookwood for his failure," he said softly. "You have done well, Luciussss. You are dismissed."

With no small amount of relief, Lucius disapparated.

A/N: Please review!


	95. Chapter 95

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 95**

Hermione had figured it out. Now that she had, it was almost embarrassing how long it had taken her to do so. The clues had all been there, but she had been too blind to link them.

Snape was Mordred.

When Ron returned to Gryffindor tower alone, Hermione had been concerned. Ron assured her that, for once, nothing had happened to Harry. He was simply off speaking with McGonagall. Ron had then described their run in with the Slytherins, and how McGonagall's quick thinking had saved them. Hermione agreed that they had been fortunate, but inwardly her mind was racing.

Snape had lord-level power. According to Moody, Mordred did as well. Snape was a half-blood. Ron's parents called Mordred 'the half-blood prince.' Snape saved her family while polyjuiced as Sirius. Mordred always appeared under polyjuice.

Hermione floundered momentarily when she remembered that Harry had seen both Mordred and Snape during his first occlumency lesson. That sparked her next realization.

Snape had a time turner.

He had used it to appear as both Mordred and himself in order to create an alibi. It also explained how he had recovered so amazingly quickly after his summons following Darius Nott's death. He had not recovered quickly at all; he had instead used the time turner so that he would have longer to heal before he had to appear in public again.

Hermione wondered if Dumbledore knew. Professor McGonagall almost certainly did, if she had helped cover for him in front of Harry and Ron, so it was likely that Dumbledore did as well. She hoped so, since it seemed very risky to keep such important information from an ally.

 _But what if Dumbledore doesn't know?_

Hermione bit her lip. As Snape had requested, she had ceased patrolling the astronomy tower. Since her detention after that patrol, she had barely seen him except during meals in the Great Hall. Despite this, he had evidently been sufficiently pleased by her reticence. Her parents had restored her library privileges, and she could only assume that he had written to them. She had gotten used to keeping silent about Master Snape, and she was no longer as convinced of Dumbledore's omniscience as she once was. She would not say anything.

-DVDVDV-

"And how fared Mister Potter's visit to the Ministry?" Umbridge asked Minerva, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Quite well," Minerva replied. "I believe the aurors were rather pleased."

"Excellent," Umbridge said, smiling. It did not reach her eyes. "I would, of course, be happy to bring Mister Potter to the Ministry, should they have any further questions."

 _I'm certain you would,_ Minerva thought bitterly. "Thank you, Dolores. But as his Head of House, it remains my duty to accompany him should he request it."

"Oh, of course. I would never dream of interfering with your duties. But should you ever find yourself overwhelmed with your other responsibilities, I would be only too happy to assist," Umbridge replied, buttering a piece of toast. Minerva noted that her short, stubby fingers looked unusually red and raw. _A symptom of whatever Severus did, or something else?_

"I shall keep that in mind." Minerva took a sip of her tea. "And how are you feeling, by the way?" _Worse, I hope._

Umbridge frowned. "No improvement." She laughed girlishly. "But I'm sure I'll be just fine soon. Probably just something in the air."

"No doubt," Snape said drily.

-DVDVDV-

Hermione Granger surveyed the staff table with interest. For the second day in a row, she observed Snape, trying to gauge if her theory was correct. His interactions with McGonagall seemed unchanged, so she guessed that her Head of House truly had already known about Snape's role as Mordred.

Now that she was paying closer attention, though, Hermione could see that there was something slightly off about Snape. After gesturing over the plate in front of him – presumably to check for contaminants – he had eaten only a few unenthusiastic bites before pushing it away from him. She recalled that he had only picked at his food the day before as well. _Is it the stress? I've heard that being under a lot of stress can affect the appetite. Some people eat more, while others eat less._ He seemed thinner, too, although perhaps that was only her imagination. He had never exactly been robust.

At one point, he coughed and raised a napkin to his lips. McGonagall turned to him sharply, but Snape only shook his head minutely. _What's going on? Is he sick? Or was he summoned last night and still feeling the effects?_

Umbridge said something then, and McGonagall pursed her lips even as Snape scowled. Flitwick frowned, and Sprout rolled her eyes. _I guess the professors like her almost as much as we do._

-DVDVDV-

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy observed the Gryffindors eating breakfast. He rolled his eyes at seeing Weasley's abysmal table manners. Even his siblings had managed to maintain some basic etiquette. He focused on Potter, who was calmly piling some toast onto his plate. Draco smirked. Master Snape had been _very_ pleased by his and Nott's loyalty. He had refused to discuss the details of Potter and Weasley's punishment for stealing his mail, but the furious glint in his black eyes had been answer enough. Draco just hoped that it would be painful as well as humiliating.

Still observing the Gryffindor table, Draco wondered why his father had written to him last night, asking him to watch for any odd behavior from Potter. Certainly nothing qualified at the moment. His eyes moved to Granger, who was staring intently at the staff table. He followed her gaze, and realized that she was watching Snape. _Why would she be doing that? Does she suspect that he's on our side? Or is this related to the letter than Potter tried to steal?_

When Snape coughed into his napkin, Draco felt a sudden stab of concern. _Was he poisoned? He couldn't have been! He's a potions master. He always checks his food before eating anything, even when he visits Father._

Eyes narrowing, he turned back to Granger. She was biting her lip as she continued to stare at Snape. _Is she actually worried? What does she know?_

-DVDVDV-

On Tuesday afternoon, midway through double potions with the Slytherins, Harry Potter collapsed to the floor, screaming.

Draco Malfoy took note. He wrote to his father, who reported to Voldemort, who had already known. He had seen it happen, after all.

It was a pity that Potter's agony manifested as his own pain as well. Voldemort wondered how such a connection had formed between them. _Was it the rebounded killing curse, or a side effect of the resurrection ritual?_

In either case, it was yet another reason to kill the damnable brat. And Lord Voldemort knew exactly how to do it.

A/N: Please review!


	96. Chapter 96

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 96**

"Mister Potter," Umbridge's voice called out with false sweetness. Harry groaned and turned to face her.

"Yes, Professor?" he gritted out.

Her wide, toad-like mouth curved into a smile, and Harry suppressed the urge to shudder. "The aurors had few extra questions for you, and asked if I could bring you back to the Ministry to help."

Harry frowned. "Why wouldn't they just write to me to ask? Or ask Professor McGonagall, like they did last time?"

Umbridge laughed girlishly. "Oh, Mister Potter, they know that I work so closely with them, they just asked me. I told them that it would be no trouble, no trouble at all."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were both frowning. "If it's alright, I'd really like to check with the headmistress to see if it's okay," Harry said. There was definitely something strange going on. It might just be Umbridge's politicking, but he definitely wanted to speak with McGonagall first.

Umbridge frowned. "Oh, I'm sure there'll be no need for that." She removed a piece of parchment from her pocket and showed it to Harry. "See? I have the official form right here." She turned to Ron and Hermione. "Run along. I'm sure good little students like you have other things to do."

"It's a bit late in the evening to go to the Ministry, isn't it, Professor?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you know aurors," Umbridge said, giving a false, girlish chuckle. "Always working."

Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry, who was still frowning. "Let McGonagall know where I am, guys?" he asked. _If this is just politicking, it might be pretty bad if I mess something up. McGonagall said it was important not to alienate the Ministry, since we need their help. Even if I hate Umbridge._ They nodded, looking relieved to be told what to do.

"Such a good boy," Umbridge said, as if he were five rather than fifteen. "Come along now." She led him to her office, which was just as sickly sweet as Harry remembered from his detentions earlier in the year. She reached into a jar above her fireplace, and then threw in a handful of floo powder. "Ministry of Magic atrium," she said, and stepped in.

 _It can't be a trap if she went first, can it?_ Harry hesitated for a moment, and then followed. When he arrived in the atrium, he saw that it was almost empty. Harry guessed that this was to be expected, as it had been only an hour before curfew when Umbridge had found him. She was standing next to Cornelius Fudge and a middle-aged man that Harry did not recognize. He wore the red robes of an auror, though, and Harry guessed that he was here to guide him to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Harry, my boy!" Fudge exclaimed upon seeing him. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Er, of course, Minister." Harry turned to the auror. "Professor Umbridge said you had some more questions for me?"

"Indeed, Minster Potter," the auror said. He had a low, hoarse voice. "Please, come with us this way."

"Perhaps you should return to Hogwarts, Dolores?" Fudge suggested.

"Are you sure, Cornelius?" Umbridge asked.

"Er, yes. I think that it would be best. All hands on deck, you know."

Umbridge frowned minutely, and then smiled. "Oh, of course. Do let me know if you need anything," she simpered, and then turned back to the nearest floo. "Professor Umbridge's office, Hogwarts," she said, and vanished into the green flames.

The auror, who had yet to introduce himself, led Harry and Fudge towards the nearest lift. Inside, he pressed the button for Level Nine. "I thought we were going to the auror office?" Harry asked, confused. "Wasn't that on Level Two?"

"Yes, it is," the auror replied. "But we're not going to the auror office today, Mister Potter. We have something to show you in the Department of Mysteries. Something that we think might be related to what happened in June."

"Oh." Harry glanced at Fudge, who was staring blankly at the lift doors. Something seemed very off about all of this. "Perhaps I should let Professor McGonagall know where I'm going? Just in case she needs to contact me, or something? She's my Head of House, after all."

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Fudge said jovially, snapping out of his reverie. "I'm sure Dolores will let her know." Harry doubted it, and he grew more concerned as Fudge returned to his glassy-eyed examination of the lift doors. _Imperius?_ Harry wondered. He surreptitiously patted his pocket, checking that his wand was easily accessible. It was. _I need to figure out a way out of here._

"Level Nine: Department of Mysteries," a cool female voice sounded as the lift arrived. The doors opened, revealing a bare, black-tiled hall lit only by blue torchlight. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Night after night, he had dreamt of this place. Mordred had warned him that Voldemort wanted something from here, something too dangerous to discuss with him until Harry could block his mind.

Harry did not want to be here.

"Sir, I really think I should go back to Hogwarts. I'll be happy to answer any questions, of course, but I'd feel a lot better if Professor McGonagall were here." Harry scrambled to remember what she had told him on Sunday. "Since she's in local parenthesis, right?"

"In loco parentis," the auror corrected absently. "And Professor Umbridge acted in that capacity. There's no need for any concern, Mister Potter. Is there, Minister?"

"No, no reason at all," Fudge agreed.

Harry noticed that the auror – _Is it an auror? Or just a man in auror robes?_ – had the tip of his wand poking out of his sleeve, ready to draw it with a moment's notice. The long corridor was ill-suited to dodging curses, and Harry doubted he could escape before the man drew his wand and attacked. He decided to play along for now. "Okay," he agreed.

They led him to a plain black door. Fudge opened it, and the three of them entered a circular room with a dozen identical, handleless doors. The door they had entered from closed behind them, and the walls rotated. The auror reached out to some of the doors, yet did not touch any of them. At last, he placed his hand on one, and it opened to reveal a long, rectangular room filled with bright light that sparkled like gems. The room contained clocks of all descriptions. Dozens of time turners lay on a far table. Harry wondered if he could take one and use it to escape.

 _"_ _Terrible things happen to wizards who mess with time," Hermione told me, though._ Harry decided not to risk it. The auror was watching him too closely in any case.

The auror led Harry and Fudge to a door at the far end of the room. He opened it, and Harry saw a huge, dimly lit room filled with rows upon rows of shelves. From what Harry could tell, the only things on the shelves were identical small, dusty orbs. A faded label declared the row in front of them to be Row 54. The auror gestured for Harry to turn right. Reluctantly, Harry did, walking slowly thought the eerie room, with Fudge and the auror following behind.

"Stop," the auror said, just as Harry reached Row 97. "Just down here." He pointed to an orb that looked indistinguishable from the rest. Harry squinted at it. There was a faded, dusty label beneath it, reading "S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter."

Harry was immediately tempted to reach out for it.

He did not move. He _knew_ , somehow, that taking the orb would be a terrible idea. _Is this what Voldemort's after?_ There was something seriously wrong here. Fudge was almost certainly under the _imperius_ , and the "auror" was probably either an imposter or one of Voldemort's sleeper agents.

"Go ahead," the auror said encouragingly. "Take it."

"No, I'd rather not. Thanks," Harry said. He slowly and deliberately took a step back.

The auror sighed. "I really wished you could have made this easy." With a flick of his wrist, his wand appeared in his hand. He pointed it at Fudge, who continued to stand there placidly. "Take the prophecy like a good boy, or the Minister here will suffer the consequences."

Harry's heart hammered. _Prophecy?_ He did not like Fudge, but the thought of having him get hurt because of him was unconscionable. _Not again. Cedric died because I couldn't stop it. Never again._ Even so, he hesitated. _Would doing what he wants just make things worse later?_

The auror made a _tsk_ sound. "I warned you. _Diffindo._ " A long cut bisected Fudge's chest. Blood seeped through the lime green suit. Fudge did not react. Somehow, that made it even worse than if he had been screaming.

Harry gulped. He took a step forward and grabbed the orb with one hand. It glowed at his touch. The auror smiled and seemed to relax. "Good. Now give it here."

Harry nodded, and made as if to toss it gently to the auror. As soon as the man's eyes left Harry's face and fell on the orb, he drew his wand. " _Stupefy!_ " he shouted.

The auror collapsed, and Fudge seemed to shake himself. "H-Harry?" he stuttered. He looked down at his bleeding chest and began clutching it desperately.

"Come on, Minister. We need to get out of here," Harry said. "Can you move?" The wound did not seem to be too bad. _More to scare me than to do too much damage,_ he guessed.

"I – I think so." His eyes were wide. "I can't believe it! How could Eddington – been working here for years!"

Orb still in his hand, Harry led the still-spluttering Fudge towards the circular room. As soon as they entered, the room spun again. "Um, do you know which one's the exit?" Harry asked. At the word "exit," a door opened, showing the dark corridor they had come in from. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Focusing on reaching the lift, he did not notice when Fudge's eyes again glazed over.

A/N: Please review!


	97. Chapter 97

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 97**

As soon as Minerva told Snape that Potter had been foolish enough to go off to the Ministry with Umbridge of all people, he had muttered bitterly about suicidal idiots and then stalked over to her private washroom to change into Mordred. Minerva shook her head. Gryffindor courage was all well and good, but she could see that a reminder of the importance of common sense would not go amiss among her students. _At least he was sensible enough to have Miss Granger and Mister Weasley come and tell me._ She had dismissed the pair with instructions to come back and inform her at once should they see Mister Potter return.

Snape emerged a minute later looking utterly unrecognizable and dressed in fine blue robes that she could never imagine him wearing as himself. He began to pace the room restlessly. About a minute later, he suddenly stopped. "Potter has the prophecy," he announced, his normal smooth baritone replaced by a light tenor with a Dutch accent. "We need to go _now._ "

Minerva nodded. She summoned her patronus and sent it to Grimmauld Place. Grindelwald's wards should have alerted him at the same time as they did Snape, but there was no guarantee that he would be at Order headquarters at the moment.

"Hellspawn," Snape snapped. The phoenix appeared in the room in a flash of flame. He held out his arm stiffly, and Minerva took hold. "Take us to the Ministry atrium. Then go to Gellert and take him to the Department of Mysteries in case Potter is still there." And with another flash of flame, they vanished from the office.

They reappeared in the Ministry of Magic atrium to find themselves surrounded by a dozen figures in black robes and faceless silver masks. Even as she raised her wand, a startled cry of "Phoenix" came from one of the men to her right. A fraction of a second later, he and two other Death Eaters collapsed to the ground with a piercing scream, a silent _reducto_ from Snape having exploded into the floor beneath them.

The sudden violence stirred the assembled Death Eaters from their shock. Minerva dodged as a jet of green light shot towards her, and she hastily raised a shield that caught two other hexes that she did not have the time to identify. Recalling skills that she had not used in earnest since the last war, she positioned herself back-to-back with Snape.

"Go, you obtuse creature!" Snape snarled. Hellspawn trilled something in reply, and then he vanished. Two curses sparked as they hit Snape's shield. " _Serpensortia!_ " Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva saw a giant serpent shoot out of his wand. He hissed something. _Severus is a parselmouth?_ Minerva thought, so surprised that she nearly allowed herself to get hit by a light blue hex. Fortunately, the Death Eaters surrounding them appeared as startled as she did, and their onslaught of spells paused for a fraction of a second.

Their hesitation proved costly, as Snape took the opportunity to fire a silent spell that illuminated four of them in silvery light. They screamed, and an instant later they drifted off the ground, rising steadily towards the high ceiling. _Some sort of anti-gravity hex?_ Minerva wondered, shooting a silent _stupefy_ towards a nearby enemy, who dodged. At the same time, the enormous snake bit the leg of one of the Death Eaters, who cursed. He blasted the snake, and it vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Level One: Atrium," said a cool female voice.

"Potter!" shouted one of the Death Eaters floating near the ceiling. He shot a blasting hex down at them, but it rebounded off of Snape's shield. One of the airborne Death Eaters managed to avoid the ricochet, but the other three were no so fortunate. Minerva watched, horrified, as red blood poured onto them from above. It slid off of the raised shields, coating the floor around them.

"He still has the proph-" Minerva heard Fudge say.

" _Stupefy!_ " Potter yelled.

"Hellspawn!" Snape shouted. He ducked as a killing curse shot over his head. The phoenix suddenly appeared on his shoulder. "Get Potter out of here!"

The phoenix trilled and flew towards Potter, who was scrambling out of the way as two of the remaining Death Eaters shot curses at him.

"Don't!" one of the other Death Eaters cried. "You might damage the prophecy!"

Gellert Grindelwald, Nymphadora Tonks, Bill Weasley, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Emmaline Vance, and a man that Minerva did not recognize but guessed to be a polyjuiced Kingsley Shacklebolt apparated into the atrium. They already had their wands raised, and they immediately began shooting hexes at the conscious Death Eaters, who now found themselves outnumbered.

"Grindelwald!" shouted the lone Death Eater still floating on the ceiling, sounding panicked. He disapparated.

"Coward!" a woman spat furiously.

An instant later, Potter screamed and collapsed to the floor, clutching his scare. Minerva had not seen anything hit him. _A vision? Now?_

" _Avada kedavra!"_ the woman shouted.

The jet of green light barely missed Moody as he pivoted on his wooden leg. He retaliated with a blasting hex, which missed and nearly hit Minerva and Snape instead. Snape shot what looked like a rubber ball out of his wand and flung it at the woman. It exploded over her silver mask, and she screeched with rage. She tore the mask off, revealing the mad face of Bellatrix Lestrange. She cast another killing curse, this time aimed at Snape, but he summoned the golden house elf from the Statue of Magical Brethren as a shield. The statue exploded, and some of the flying shrapnel cut into Minerva's legs. She hissed in pain, but the damage fortunately seemed superficial.

Hellspawn reached Potter, and they vanished in a flash of flames.

"No!" Bellatrix screamed.

"Wait!" one of the other Death Eaters cried. His voice seemed familiar, but Minerva could not immediately place it. "He dropped the prophecy." He ran towards where Potter had stood, trying to evade the spells that were flying around him. Almost simultaneously, Tonks and Minerva shot spells at the man. He dodged Tonks's, but that brought him directly in the path of Minerva's stunner. He collapsed. Snape grabbed something from his pocket and threw it in his direction. There was the sound of glass shattering, and the area near the lift was suddenly filled with thick fog in an eight-food circle, hiding the prophecy orb and the collapsed Death Eater from view. Snape then cast another spell in that direction, but Minerva could not see the effect as she had to focus her full attention on blocking a blood boiling hex from Bellatrix.

Minerva blinked as Hellspawn reappeared, the fire of his arrival distracting her. Fortunately, Snape's shield covered her as Bellatrix flung another curse in her direction.

Remus Lupin screamed in pain. Minerva dared a glance in his direction, and saw that he had crumpled to the floor. _Was his leg missing?_ Emmaline Vance rushed over to him, only to be hit by a killing curse. "No!" Bill Weasley screamed, flinging a jet of red light at one of the remaining Death Eaters.

"Pay attention," Snape hissed as another curse hit his shield. _I can't believe it hasn't collapsed yet._ Chastened, Minerva refocused her attention on the laughing, madly darting Bellatrix. Her body ached. _I am getting too old for this sort of thing,_ she realized. "Hellspawn, help the wolf," Snape snarled. Hellspawn launched himself from his shoulder and flew towards Lupin, avoiding a hex that one of the Death Eaters aimed at him.

There was a deafening _crack_ , and suddenly Lord Voldemort stood in the room, accompanied by a dozen reinforcements.

A/N: Please review!


	98. Chapter 98

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"_ _Mental speech"_

 **"** **Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 98**

As soon as the Dark Lord appeared, the room was suffused with a blinding silvery light. Although he had been expecting it based on Gellert's description of the runic traps he had prepared, Severus did not shut his eyes quite in time. As he blinked to clear his vision, he felt the warm weight of Hellspawn return to his shoulder, and then a lurch as the phoenix carried him to the fog still covering the area near the lift. His foot hit something, and he guessed that it was the unconscious body of Lucius Malfoy. He had cast a silent disillusionment on his friend as soon as he had collapsed in the fog. _Thank you, Hellspawn._ He needed to get Lucius out of here.

"Take him home, and then return," he whispered.

 _"_ _But –"_ Hellspawn began.

"Do it," Severus hissed. Smirking, he promised, "And then we can rain fire upon our enemies." He felt an answering pulse of fire course through him, replenishing his store of energy as a surge of anger rushed through his veins.

 _"_ _Yes!"_ With that, Hellspawn grabbed the disillusioned body of Lucius and disappeared. From outside the cloud of fog, Severus could hear the cries of battle. He felt the floor vibrate as another of Gellert's traps triggered. And then Hellspawn returned, and Severus banished the fog. The false prophecy orb was only a foot away. He bent down and picked it up.

In the handful of seconds that had passed since Voldemort's arrival with reinforcements, the tide of battle had shifted against them. Although half of the Death Eaters had fallen, either dead or unconscious, they still outnumbered the combined forces of the Order and the Damned. Voldemort was bearing down upon Gellert, who kept apparating and disapparating before he could be targeted with any specific spell.

Severus released his aura. On his shoulder, Hellspawn sang. The fire of his anger blazed in harmony with the phoenix's song of rage and pain and grief. The air around him sparked crackled. The floor beneath him hummed.

Duels paused momentarily as all eyes turned to him, as if drawn against their will.

And Severus whispered a word that he should not know, a word that could see him sent to Azkaban for fifty years. Fiendfyre erupted from his wand, and Hellspawn's fire flowed into it. It took the shape of a great demonic bird, a twisted parody of how a phoenix should look. As the dark magic coursed through him, Severus felt alive and invigorated as he had not in years. Even flying had been as nothing compared to this. He remembered why he loved the dark arts. They drew not only on his magic, but on his emotions and his soul. Denying them was to deny himself. He had denied himself for far too long.

Severus fed his fiendfyre phoenix with the anger of his soul. With a thought, it flew above the combatants, who stared at Severus, expressions ranging from horror to awe to interest. It landed on Bellatrix Lestrange, who screamed a terrible blood-curdling howl of agony as she burned alive, her flesh dissolving in a liquid puddle before it, too, burned into nothing more than smoke and ash.

And still Hellspawn sang.

The fiendfyre phoenix turned its head towards a masked Death Eater. It opened its fiery beak and released a piercing cry of hate, its voice in counterpoint to the phoenix song. The Death Eater took a step back before collapsing, blood flowing out of his ears.

A few steps away, Alastor Moody fell to the floor, clutching his head.

With a roar, Voldemort summoned an enormous serpent made of sand. **_"Quench the fire,"_** he hissed, and Severus recognized the parseltongue words.

The snake of sand met the phoenix of cursed fire. As the two touched, the sand turned to glass and the fire died. A gleaming, twisted mass of black hung momentarily in the air before crashing to the ground. The glass shattered, covering the blood-streaked floor with tiny shards.

And still Hellspawn sang.

Voldemort conjured a mass of water and shot it as a tidal wave towards Severus. He threw one hand into the air as if to backhand the approaching wave. The water parted around him, not even dampening his robes. It threw Tonks and one of the masked Death Eaters back, and Bill Weasley had to fight against the tide to drag Moody's fallen body out of the way before he drowned.

From the corner of his eye, Severus could see Gellert drawing rune after rune in the air now that he was no longer the focus of Voldemort's attention. Severus recognized the array and knew that it would take several minutes for Gellert to complete. He would need to keep Voldemort occupied in the meantime. _Why is no one else helping? The Death Eaters know better than to interfere with the Dark Lord's duel, but the Order should have no such compunctions. Now is not the time for Gryffindors to disdain uneven odds._

Severus conjured a dozen balls and flung them towards Voldemort. They exploded around his shield, covering the floor around him with thick, sticky rubber. Voldemort tried to vanish the residue, without success. Snarling, he apparated a few steps to his left. Using those brief seconds, Severus began a soft, low chant, dodging as Voldemort sent a lung inversion curse at him.

And still Hellspawn sang.

Severus completed his chant. A bolt of lightning appeared form the ceiling, and Voldemort barely apparated out of its way, reappearing about fifteen feet in front of Severus. As soon as Voldemort materialized, he animated the nearby centaur from the Statue of Magical Brethren. The golden statue charged towards Severus.

With a grim smile, Severus clapped his hands together once, and a great rolling _boom_ of thunder echoed throughout the room. A wave of pure sound hit the centaur, shattering it. Around him, Death Eaters and Order members alike staggered. Even as he stumbled back, Gellert continued to draw rune after rune from his position at the far end of the room.

"Who are you?" Voldemort hissed.

"I am Mordred."

"Isss that your only name?"

Hellspawn's unyielding song fanned his rage, overwhelming his caution. Severus chuckled coldly. "Is Voldemort yours?" His Dark Mark burned his arm painfully as he spoke the forbidden name, but he did not allow himself to react.

"Lord Voldemort."

" _Prince_ Mordred."

"An appreciation for the classicsss, I take it?"

"An appreciation for French, I presume?" Severus replied. "I admit, my mother did not gaze upon my infant self only to say, 'What an evil baby boy. Let us name him Mordred.'" He smiled coldly. "I have wondered, though. Are you the flight of death or fleeing it?"

Voldemort laughed, cold and high. "You amuse me. Why set yourself at oddsss against me? Join me, and we shall usher in an age of darknesss such as the world has never seen."

Severus idly tossed the prophecy orb in the air, catching it as it came back down. Voldemort's eyes tracked its movement avidly. "That is rather tempting, but I am afraid that I cannot accept."

"You prefer to ally yourself with Dumbledore?" Voldemort spat, crimson eyes flicking to the side. Severus noticed that a dozen men and women in aurors' uniforms stood beside a horrified-looking Dumbledore, who had Fawkes perched on one shoulder. _When did they arrive?_ he wondered. _And why is everyone just standing there? This is a battle, not an exhibition duel._ At least Gellert was still drawing runes, despite several blue-clad Bulgarian aurors pointing their wands threateningly at him.

"Not particularly, no. I am rather disappointed in him, actually. I cannot _fathom_ why he is just standing there, although I admit that it is unexpectedly civil for all parties to halt their hostilities while we converse." _Seriously, Dumbledore, do you expect me to handle him single-handedly? Just because we cannot yet_ kill _him does not mean that rendering him bodiless again would be a waste of effort._

"Grindelwald, then," Voldemort spat.

Severus nodded. "Yes, he is clearly the superior option. Languishing in prison was hardly the optimal use of such a valuable resource. He was appalled to learn that another dark lord had arisen, and apparently not learned from his mistakes. Violence is not the answer." He smiled coldly. "Although, I admit, it does have its place." He nodded at the devastation around them. As he did, Severus felt the tell-tale pang of a pending Enobarbus attack. He fought to suppress it. _Just a little longer. Let me keep going just a little longer._

"You are responsible for hisss escape?"

"I would never admit to something so foolish before so many auror witnesses. Even if they _are_ standing about uselessly in the presence of the two most notorious dark wizards of modern times," Severus replied, barely managing to keep his tone cool even as the flames of his rage grew ever brighter. _They cannot even be bother to attack the Death Eaters who are still standing._ "There is, however, a school of thought that maintains that one needs a dark lord to stop a dark lord."

"Give me the prophecy, and I shall spare you," Voldemort said, changing tactics.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Given how you so badly misinterpreted the single line you know, I am curious as to why you so desire the rest of it."

"What?" Voldemort hissed.

"Considering your name and your fondness for anagrams, I had rather expected you to be better at verbal puzzles." Voldemort snarled. "'Born to those who have thrice defied him,' yes? And you never even considered homophones? 'Borne' as in carried, rather than 'born' as in birthed." Severus _tsked_. "Intelligence and power are all very well, but a bit of cunning would hardly go amiss in the heir of Slytherin."

Voldemort snarled furiously. "Give me the prophecy!" he demanded again.

Severus smiled coldly. "Why should I? As I see it, you are losing this battle." With the hand holding the prophecy, he gestured around the room, at the scorched ground upon which Bellatrix had once stood, at the blood and flesh of the Death Eaters hit by the rebounded _reducto_.

"Lord Voldemort does not lose!" he hissed angrily.

"Ever? That must be remarkably dull. I would despair at such a monotonous existence." Severus tossed the orb gently into the air, catching it before Voldemort could summon it.

Voldemort snarled furiously. _"Acedia!"_ he hissed. _Sending my own spell against me, even if you do not realize it._ The indignity of it fueled Severus's already considerable rage. He conjured a large sheet of metal, blocking the spell. As the sloth curse hit it, the sheet shattered onto the floor.

Gellert completed the final rune of his sequence. As he activated it, the area around him glowed briefly, and he staggered at the release of magical power. An instant later, three of the blue-clad Bulgarian aurors shot stunning spells at him. He barely avoided one, but the other two hit. Gellert collapsed on the floor, clutching his chest. "Get him out," Severus ordered Hellspawn. _Naturally, the fools would finally choose this moment to participate, and attack the wrong dark lord. He cannot be here, helpless, amid so many aurors and Death Eaters._ With the array complete, the runes would take another minute to take effect.

Hellspawn, still singing, launched himself from Severus's shoulder and flew towards Gellert. _There goes my escape plan. I am too close to the Dark Lord. The array with catch me, too._

It would be worth it.

Severus reached into his pocket and withdrew a bottle. As he did so, he dropped the prophecy orb, making it look as if it accidentally slipped through his fingers. Voldemort immediately summoned it. It reached his waiting hand at the same instant that Severus threw the bottle to the floor near Voldemort's side. It shattered. Instantly, the bruised and bloody corpse of Lord Voldemort appeared on the ground before the still-living Dark Lord's feet.

 _So that is his boggart. Not surprising, actually._

"No!" Voldemort whispered. "It cannot be – _I_ cannot die." The prophecy forgotten in his hand, he stared down at his corpse in horror. _Just a few more seconds,_ Severus thought. There was a flash of flame, and Hellspawn and Gellert disappeared.

Severus suppressed a cough. _Not yet. Please, just a little longer._

And then the runic array activated, and everything went black.

A/N: Please review!


	99. Chapter 99

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 99**

Sirius Black paced restlessly around the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. McGonagall's tabby patronus had appeared out of nowhere with a warning about Harry. At the same time, Grindelwald had burst out of the library, Hellspawn perched on his shoulder. He had grabbed all of the Order members present – except for Sirius himself – and disappeared in a flash of flame.

Sirius had cursed angrily at being left behind. _It's_ my _godson in danger,_ he thought bitterly. He stormed over to the front door, preparing to apparate to the Ministry. _Collar be damned._

As soon as he took one foot outside, the rune-encrusted dog collar yanked him back into the hall. He fell backwards over the troll leg table that Tonks kept tripping over. Cursing, he righted himself and tried to yank off the collar. A stinging jolt to his fingers stopped him. He growled in frustration. His prior attempts to remove it with unlocking charms had failed. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. It broke when he tried to cut the collar off.

There was a flash of flame, and suddenly Harry and Hellspawn were in the kitchen. Harry's screams filled the room.

"Harry! What did you do to him, you bloody bird?" Sirius demanded, rushing over to his godson.

The phoenix gave him a look of utter contempt. Sirius had not known that a bird – even one as magical as a phoenix – could convey such emotion. An instant later, Hellspawn vanished.

"Harry, please, what's wrong?" Sirius asked, trying desperately to see where he was hurt. He looked uninjured. _Cruciatus, maybe? But he's not shaking._

A few endless seconds later, Harry finally quieted. He opened his eyes, and took in his surroundings. "Si-Sirius?" he asked, his breathing ragged.

Sirius gave a weak smile. "Hey there, pup. You gave me quite the scare."

"S-sorry. Voldemort was – I think he was watching." _What?_ Harry took a deep breath, rubbing his scar. "I don't think he is anymore. He's really angry, though." He looked around again. "Where're the others?"

"They went to get you," Sirius said. "What happened, Harry?"

"They were fighting the Death Eaters, before I –" Harry looked down, embarrassed. "Before I collapsed."

"It wasn't your fault," Sirius said quickly. "And I'm sure they're fine. But what happened?" he asked again. "I tried to get to you, but this damn collar wouldn't let me," he added bitterly.

"Umbridge came and got me, told me the aurors had some questions for me. But it was a Death Eater, and he had Fudge under the _imperius_ or something." Harry suddenly stopped speaking.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, concerned.

Harry looked awkward. "I don't know how much I should say."

That hurt. "I'm your godfather, Harry. You can trust me," Sirius said.

Before Harry could respond, there was another flash of flame, and Dumbledore appeared in the kitchen, accompanied by Fawkes. "Harry!" he exclaimed, looking utterly relieved. "You're safe."

Harry blinked. "Hellspawn got me out." He paused a moment, and then his eyes widened. "Headmaster, you need to get to the Ministry! They were fighting a whole bunch of Death Eaters." He looked suddenly sick as the memory hit him. "Some of them exploded."

"Remus, is he –" Sirius began. _Please, not Moony. I can't lose him, too._

"No, the Death Eaters, I mean. They exploded." Harry clutched his stomach and began to retch.

Sirius sighed with relief, even as Dumbledore paled. Fawkes trilled something, and the two of them vanished.

Once Harry had stopped vomiting, Sirius muttered, " _Evanesco_." The mess disappeared from the floor. Sirius gathered him in a bone-crushing hug. Harry's shoulders shook as the adrenaline left his system. Sirius held him like that for several minutes, until another flash of flame startled them into breaking the embrace.

Fawkes gripped an unblinking, immobile Mordred with his taloned legs. Sirius stared. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute later, Dumbledore, who looked older and more tired than Sirius had ever seen him, entered the kitchen. His yellow and blue polka dotted robes were sprayed with red streaks of blood, but he looked uninjured.

"The others will be joining us shortly," Dumbledore said softly.

"What happened?" Sirius asked. He could hear the sullenness in his voice. He should already _know_. He should have been there, helping.

"We won." Despite the words, Dumbledore did not smile. He waved his wand over Mordred, but the man remained still.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked. "He looks like he's been petrified."

"Gellert completed a very complex, very powerful runic sequence. It hit both Mordred and Voldemort. In essence, it freezes everyone caught in the area for several hours. It is virtually impossible to block without an equally strong runic defense, and it requires considerable magical expenditure to cancel once it has taken effect."

"Then Voldemort's been captured?" Harry asked hopefully.

Dumbledore shook his head and sighed. "Alas, no. One of his Death Eaters reached him before we did, and escaped using side-along apparition." There were voices coming from the hall. "Ah, it appears the others have arrived."

McGonagall, Tonks, and a still-polyjuiced Shacklebolt entered the kitchen, looking very subdued. McGonagall limped over to the nearest chair and practically collapsed into it, heedless of the blood and gore covering her. _Death Eaters exploded. Did they explode over her?_ Tonks and Shacklebolt, both moving stiffly, each took chairs as well.

Sirius stuck his head out into the hall, but did not see anyone else. "Where are the others?" he demanded. _Where's Moony?_

"Vance is dead," Shacklebolt said. "Lupin and Moody are at Saint Mungo's. Weasley's there, too."

"Safety precaution," Tonks added. Her voice sounded hollow. "Can't risk Remus or Mad-Eye getting attacked."

Harry's eyes widened. "Will they be okay?"

"Remus'll lose the leg," Tonks said dully. "Can't grow it back. Can't even replace it with a good silver one. Werewolf, you know? Maybe a wooden one like Mad-Eye's. He'll be okay otherwise, though. Phoenix tears and all. Not sure what's wrong with him. Mad-Eye, I mean. He took a few curses, but nothing too bad. The singing, though." She shuddered, and McGonagall and Shacklebolt both flinched. "He couldn't take that."

 _Singing?_ Sirius wondered, confused. _A banshee or something?_ "How did Moony –"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Shacklebolt said,

"I'll kill her," Sirius spat.

McGonagall shook her head, looking faintly ill. "She's dead."

Sirius grinned, baring his teeth. "Good. I hope it was painful."

Dumbledore gave him a disappointed look. "It was."

"Mordred melted her," Shacklebolt added.

 _Serves the crazy bitch right,_ Sirius thought. Judging by their expressions, no one else in the room agreed. "But you said we won?" he asked, forcing cheerfulness he did not quite feel into his tone. _I should have been there!_

Tonks laughed, but there was an edge of hysteria to her voice. "Sure. We killed maybe ten or eleven of their lot, captured two or three more. Well, I say 'we.' Mordred did almost all of it. We were damn useless. Just standing there, watching. Mordred kept asking us for help, you know? And I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn't. Some auror I am. Couldn't even stop You-Know-Who from escaping when he was bloody well frozen."

"What? Killed?" Sirius exclaimed.

Tonks nodded. "Yeah. Merlin, but I've never seen a fight like that." She shuddered. "He was so angry. And that singing . . . . I didn't know phoenixes could be like _that_." She glanced nervously at Fawkes.

"Normally, they are not," Dumbledore said wearily. "Hellspawn's song is, apparently, different."

"Is that why you couldn't help Mordred?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Runes," he said. "They invoked a miasma of the mind, not dissimilar to the effects of the _imperius_ curse. It was a favorite tactic of Gellert's during his rise to power, particularly when his forces faced uneven odds, and it is one that can be remarkably difficult to counter."

Shacklebolt nodded slowly, but McGonagall frowned. "You can block _imperius_ , Albus. Why didn't you assist Mordred when he asked?"

"He and Gellert seemed to have the situation well in hand. I did not wish to risk interfering with their plans."

McGonagall snorted. "Pull the other one, Albus, it has bells."

Dumbledore sighed. "I had some concerns about Mordred's state of mind," he admitted. "Did you notice anything unusual as he fought Voldemort?"

Tonks snorted. "Besides him being bloody brilliant? He was terrifying as all else, but that's what you lords are like when you let loose. No offense."

"None taken, my dear," Dumbledore replied, sounding almost cheerful. "But if none of you noticed anything amiss, I would prefer not to say more for now, at least until I have had a chance to speak with Mordred."

McGonagall frowned, but nodded slowly. She raised exhausted eyes to Mordred's still form. "Can you wake him up, Albus?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It might be best to wait for him to recover on his own, given the array that Gellert chose. He was always the better of us at runes."

Harry frowned. "Where is Grindelwald, anyway? He was at the Ministry, too."

"Recovering, I hope, with Hellspawn. The array required considerable power, and he . . . he is no longer young. And then the aurors attacked him . . . ." Dumbledore's hands trembled, and Fawkes let out a soft, soothing cry. Tonks flinched at the sound, but then relaxed.

McGonagall nodded slowly. "He will recover, Albus," she said softly. She paused. "Perhaps we should move Mordred somewhere more private for now, in case the polyjuice wears off before the array," she suggested.

Dumbledore frowned. "If you feel that it necessary."

"I do. Regardless of your opinion of his methods, we would have lost today without him." Some of the firmness had returned to McGonagall's voice, replacing the resigned exhaustion.

Sighing, Dumbledore nodded. He drew his wand, presumably to levitate Mordred, and then suddenly stopped. A steady stream of blood was trickling out of Mordred's immobile mouth.

A/N: Please review!


	100. Chapter 100

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 100**

As soon as Minerva saw the blood, she knew that they could not simply wait for the runic array to wear off. When Snape had previously shown symptoms of his mysterious ailment, he had immediately taken two potions. On other occasions, he had excused himself from public view, and Minerva could only imagine that he had treated himself as soon as he was out of sight. She did not know which potions he needed, nor if she could even administer them while he remained frozen. She had already lost one person today. She would not lose another.

"Cancel the array, Albus," she said, forcing herself to sound calm.

"Was he cursed?" Potter asked, eyes wide as blood trickled down Snape's chin.

"He shall be fine," Minerva stated firmly. _Merlin, I sound like Severus._ "Cancel the array, and he can be easily treated." _I hope._

"Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling in inquisition.

"Mordred displayed these symptoms previously, following one of Mister Potter's occlumency lessons. He should recover swiftly, provided you cancel the array." _Severus asked for help repeatedly at the Ministry, but we did nothing. I will not abandon him now._

She knew that this was not fair, that she had _wanted_ to help with every fiber of her being, but simply could not act. At the time, she had _tried_ to raise her wand in his defense, had _tried_ to curse You-Know-Who while his focus remained on Snape, but she found that she could not do it. A haze of inaction hovered over her, only beginning to dissipate when Grindelwald had fallen. And by then, it was already too late.

Dumbledore frowned. "Minerva, what are you not telling us?"

"Quite a number of things, I would imagine," she replied acidly. "However, the man who helped stop a dozen Death Eaters and dueled You-Know-Who himself – _without_ your aid, I should add – needs you now. The longer you interrogate me, the worse his condition will become." As if to prove her point, blood began to trickle from Snape's left eye as well as his mouth.

He nodded, and had the grace to look ashamed. "Very well." He sighed, looking for once like the old man he was. "The runic counter will take several minutes, and even so, I am not certain if I can undo what Gellert wrought."

"He'll choke on his own blood," Minerva snapped.

" _Finite_ ," Shacklebolt suggested.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Perhaps. It cannot hurt." He drew his wand, and then took a deep, steadying breath. " _Finite supremum._ " He staggered back, dropping his wand. He swayed, and Minerva feared that he would collapse, but then he steadied himself, and knelt carefully to pick his wand up from the floor. Minerva was surprised to see such a reaction. She had only seen _finite supremum_ cast twice before. In both instances, Dumbledore had cast it on students following disastrous accidents in Slughorn's potions class, and he had shown only some weariness afterwards. _It must be the combination of the runes, the polyjuice, and whatever else Severus has cast upon himself._

As the spell hit him, Snape's appearance shifted. His height remained the same, but the broad shoulders narrowed, and the blood-splattered blue robes hung depressingly loose on his slimmer frame. The polyjuiced form had been thin. Snape was evidently even thinner. The blond hair turned brown, and a close-cropped beard appeared on his face. The pale skin turned a healthy tan.

Minerva frowned. With the polyjuice and – presumably – glamour layers gone, her decades of experience let her recognize which features were transfigured. _The skin tone, the eyes, the hair, the beard, the nose, the angles of the face._ He had done an excellent job, but then, he had always been a talented student in her class. She hoped, for Snape's sake, that Dumbledore would not be able to reconstruct the man underneath. She knew that she would not have been able to guess the base form if she did not already know whose it was, but Dumbledore was both more adept at transfiguration and was more magically powerful than she was.

Snape coughed, and Minerva relaxed a fraction to see that he was no longer frozen. He blinked, his transfigured blue eyes darting around the room to assess his surroundings, even as he reached an unsteady hand into a pocket.

Dumbledore stared fixedly at Snape's blue eyes, as if seeking something there. _Legilimency?_ Minerva wondered. After a moment, Dumbledore relaxed. A flash of relief passed over his worn and wrinkled face.

"Mordred, I believe that we have a great number of items to discuss," Dumbledore said. The genial smile did not match the hardness of his eyes, which did not twinkle.

"I think that we should leave the room while Mordred recovers. You can speak with him afterwards, Albus," Minerva said firmly. _Let him heal. Let him take another swig of polyjuice before he has to deal with the Order._ She stood and glared pointedly at the others. Potter was frowning, glancing uncertainly between Mordred and Dumbledore. "Albus, you can lean on me if you must. Thank you for cancelling the array." She reached out her hand to grasp Dumbledore's upper arm, hoping that her own knees would not give out. She still felt exhausted from the recent battle. For all that she was considered only middle-aged for a witch, she knew that she was getting too old for such exertions. Tonks and Shacklebolt both rose slowly to their feet, and Minerva felt some mild consolation that their younger bodies were holding up no better than hers. They followed Potter as he headed towards the door. Black, scowling, moved to join them a moment later.

Snape inclined his head towards her in mute thanks before coughing again. It was a terrible, painful sound, and Minerva's heart ached to hear it. Fawkes trilled and flew over to him. He wept, letting his tears fall on Snape's transfigured face. When his condition did not noticeably improve, Fawkes let out a sad, keening cry. Dumbledore's head jerked back to look at the phoenix.

"Dying?" he whispered. His eyes bored into Snape. "Mordred? Is that true?"

After aiming a silent glare at Fawkes, Snape turned to Dumbledore and shook his head minutely. He withdrew a vial from his pocket and fiddled briefly with the stopper before opening it and downing its contents. He then reached into his pocket for another potion.

"Dying?" Black repeated, turning back from where he stood just past the kitchen doorway. He rushed back into the room. "Who's dying?"

Snape frowned, but he did not respond as he unstoppered another vial. _Why is he staying silent? Is he unable to talk?_ "That is enough! Let Mordred recover before you question him," Minerva snapped.

Black did not listen. He stormed towards Snape, ignoring Dumbledore's exhausted command for him to stop. Grabbing Snape's bloodstained robes, he snarled, "Who's dying?" Snape dropped the vial in his hand, and it shattered on the floor. He tried to push Black away, but the strength he commanded in the battle earlier had clearly faded.

Minerva itched to draw her wand, but Dumbledore was still swaying dangerously, and she needed both hands to keep him steady. Fortunately, Tonks seemed to have the same idea. "Sirius!" she shouted, levelling her wand at him.

Black ignored her. He shook Snape violently. "Who?" he demanded. "Is it Moony?"

"Release me," Snape snarled.

Everyone froze.

Snape always did have a very distinctive voice.

A/N: Please review!


	101. Chapter 101

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 101**

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked, swaying slightly in McGonagall's supporting grip.

Severus coughed painfully, mentally cursing the expired polyjuice. It must have worn off while he remained frozen, and he wondered why Hellspawn had not returned for him. _Is Gellert's condition that serious?_ The rage that had sustained him earlier had faded to mere embers, but fury at Black's manhandling fanned them back to life. He was still so weak, though. He needed the potion that now coated the filthy kitchen floor. He roughly pushed Black away. Startled by the sound of Severus's voice coming from Mordred, Black did not resist. Severus reached into his pocket for another vial of Prince's Kiss.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked again.

"That is enough, Albus!" McGonagall snapped. "Give Mordred some peace while he recovers." _Thank you, Minerva._ Severus did not know what he had done to earn her loyalty, but he would not forget it.

"That's Snivellus!" Black snarled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Professor?" Tonks asked hesitantly.

 _Well, the game is up. Continuing to deny it would only be undignified._ Severus swallowed the dose in the vial. Focusing slightly, he released the transfiguration.

Black punched him. Severus staggered as his nose broke with a sickening _crack_. "Sirius!" Potter shouted, sounding appalled.

" _Stupefy,_ " Tonks snapped angrily, and Black collapsed to the floor.

"Fantastic. As if I were not bleeding enough as it is," Severus snarled. He tapped his wand to his nose and cast a silent healing spell. He fought a flinch as his nose repaired itself. It hurt almost as much to heal as it did to break. _That's the fifth time Black has broken my nose_ , he thought bitterly.

 _And speaking of blood . . . ._ Severus cast a silent _scourgify_ over himself, removing the blood from his face and robes. After a moment's thought, he tapped the blue robes with his wand, coloring them black and shrinking them so that they did not hang so loosely on him. It was debatable, though, whether that was actually an improvement. Without his habitual excess of layers, the robes failed to hide how skeletal he had become.

 _No matter. Dumbledore has announced my imminent demise as it is. And I was never going to win any beauty contests even if I were at peak health._

He hated appearing weak, though.

"Why, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

He sounded hurt, and that ignited Severus's already rising anger. He glared back at his former headmaster. "Why?" he spat. "Why do you think, old man? You treat me like the dirt you scrape off your boot, and dark to ask _why_?"

"I always cared for you. I cared for each and every one of my students," Dumbledore said softly. He swayed in McGonagall's arms, and reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall "I apologize if it ever seemed otherwise."

Severus snorted. "Seemed? No, Albus, you may have felt concern for your tool, but you never cared about _me_."

"Severus, I –" Dumbledore began, but he broke off as Severus doubled over as another wave of coughing seized him. Severus fumbled in his pocket for a Respiratory Restorative, cursing the ill-timing of his latest sign of ill health. He could feel the others' eyes on him. Even Potter stared at him with horrified pity.

Once his breathing eased again, Dumbledore asked gently, "How can I help you, Severus?"

"Just leave me be," Severus snarled.

Extracting himself from McGonagall's grip, Dumbledore walked over to where Severus had propped himself against the wall, and then knelt in front of him. "I cannot do that, my boy."

"No. You never could do what I wanted."

"Severus –"

Severus straightened. "Enough, Albus," he interrupted. "I am no longer yours to manipulate. We remain allies against the Dark Lord. That is all. And speaking of whom, what transpired when the array activated?"

"He escaped. Side-along apparation with one of his Death Eaters," McGonagall said wearily, glaring at Dumbledore.

"Of course he did," Severus sneered. "Merlin forbid you actually do something _useful._ " He coughed again.

Dumbledore reached out a hand towards him. Severus glared, and Dumbledore dropped it with a sigh. "My boy, please – I am only concerned about you."

Severus snorted. "I doubt that. But even if that is true, it is far too little, far too late." He glared at Fawkes, who was still on his shoulder, weeping gently. "Hellspawn is trouble enough. Go." With a soft cry, he flew back to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed. "I am sorry you feel that way, my boy. But given the revealed truth about your circumstances, I fear we have much to discuss."

"That is enough!" McGonagall snapped. "Albus, I am highly disappointed in you. Severus has just fought a contingent of Death Eaters _and_ You-Know-Who himself, and all _you_ can do is hound him. If he wishes to answer you, he can do so later, _after_ he has had a chance to recover."

"Hear hear," Tonks added.

Dumbledore frowned, but then nodded. _Had he forgotten his audience? Or is he simply so used to overriding me in front of witnesses that he simply assumed no one would object?_ "Of course," he agreed, his blue eyes twinkling. "My apologies, dear boy." He rose stiffly to his feet and turned to leave. "I'll give you a chance to settle yourself."

As soon as they left the room, floating Black's unconscious body out with them, Severus closed the door with a wave of his hand a cast a few quick privacy charms. He drank another two potions, and felt himself relax a fraction. He was not looking forward to his pending conversation with Dumbledore, but at least he would not be a bleeding, coughing mess during it.

Severus summoned his patronus, and he felt another pending spasm as he gazed upon the representation of Lily. _No, it is too soon! I should not be deteriorating this rapidly._ He had overexerted himself in the battle earlier, and it showed in the strain on his already weakened body. The Dark Lord had recently begun _cruicioing_ him at every summons for the pettiest of offenses, and yet still seemed not to have identified him as a traitor. It was baffling, and spoke of Voldemort's diminishing sanity. It had certainly done Severus no favors. Slowing the Enobarbus progression was difficult enough. It was virtually impossible when combined with regular torture sessions.

"Go to Gellert," he told the silver doe. "Inquire after his condition. Inform him that the Order knows that I am Mordred, and that I am ill. Tell him that Riddle escaped. If he cannot respond, go to Hellspawn with the same message."

A/N: Please review!


	102. Chapter 102

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 102**

Harry's illusions crumpled.

Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be a great man. He was supposed to be wise. He was supposed to be kind.

Mordred had raised questions about those assumptions over the summer, but Harry still looked up to the elderly wizard. His aura of grandfatherly omniscience, his obvious _goodness_ , had never truly been in doubt.

Harry doubted it now.

Harry had not seen the entire battle at the Ministry. He did not know exactly what had happened after Hellspawn extracted him. What he did know, though, was that Mordred – who was evidently _Snape_ of all people – had stood back-to-back with Professor McGonagall and battled a dozen Death Eaters. Despite the enormous odds against them, they had held their own. When Harry had appeared, Mordred's first thought had been for Hellspawn to rescue him.

And from what McGonagall and Tonks had said, Mordred had then dueled Voldemort single-handed. For some reason related to runes, most of the others could not help him. Dumbledore could, though, but he chose not to, even though Mordred had asked him to.

Dumbledore's callousness when Mordred – no, _Snape_ – regained consciousness was even worse. It was obvious even to Harry that Snape was horribly unwell but desperately wanted to be left alone to recover. But all Dumbledore wanted to do was interrogate him. Harry had his own questions for the potions master, but even he knew that they could wait until Snape stopped coughing up blood. He was _weeping_ blood, and Dumbledore still tried to pressure him.

Dumbledore said that he cared about Snape, but even Harry could hear the emptiness of those words.

It made him wonder if Dumbledore's concern for Harry was just as hollow.

And Sirius was certainly a lost cause. Despite all the evidence, Harry had wanted to believe the best of his godfather. But he had seen the truth with his own eyes. Sirius had struck an unarmed man who had not provoked him. For all that Harry yearned for the connection to his family, he could not condone that sort of behavior. It seemed that Sirius could not learn from his mistakes. Harry promised himself that he would not fall into the same trap.

Of course, the greatest illusion of all had been Snape himself. The cruel, vicious, powerful potions master was, in the end, just a man. Harry had been appalled at how very small and frail Snape had seemed without his usual voluminous robes. It struck him then, for the first time, that Snape was actually a _person_. Not just a professor, or a Death Eater, or a spy, or a hero, but someone who had hopes and dreams, who had fears and doubts, someone who had an entire life outside of what Harry saw.

That Snape was Mordred had been a shock. It was even more surprising because McGonagall had obviously known. She had covered for him when the Slytherins found the letter that Harry had written. She had _lied_ to Harry to protect Snape's secret.

Harry wondered if he could trust McGonagall again.

 _The war effort,_ he reminded himself. _They couldn't risk Voldemort finding out._

He hoped that Voldemort still did not know. After his collapse in the Ministry today and in potions yesterday, Harry felt fairly certain that Voldemort could not access his mind without him feeling a wave of overwhelming pain. It was still unclear, though, if Voldemort could search Harry's mind for information while also watching through Harry's eyes. He would still need to master occlumency.

 _Snape taught me occlumency._ That was a sickening thought. _Wait, I saw him together with Mordred. Does Snape have a time turner? Or was one of them polyjuiced?_

 _That must be why he demanded I get rid of the map._

That reminded Harry of his conversation with McGonagall when she had made arrangements for his occlumency lessons. _"A very dear friend of mine is dying, and there is apparently nothing I – or anyone else – can do about it," she had said. She much have meant Snape. He's dying, and she knew about it._

McGonagall had evidently not told Dumbledore about either Snape's identity or his health. She seemed a lot less fond of the former headmaster than Harry remembered. _Is that because of Snape, or something else?_

Harry decided to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. _Voldemort was in my head less than an hour ago. If I'd known then what I know now . . . ._ He shook his head. He hated that she had lied to him, but he could – reluctantly – understand why.

"How can Professor Snape be Mordred?" Tonks whispered as if to herself. She shook her head. "Merlin, but I hope he's alright."

"I confess, this information is rather surprising," Dumbledore agreed. He seemed to have regained some of his strength, and no longer required McGonagall to help steady him. "But it is well to note that he remains committed to assisting us against Voldemort. Although I do wish he had been honest with us about his identity. And that others had as well," he added, eyes twinkling at McGonagall.

"What does it matter?" she replied acerbically. "Regardless of whether he is Mordred or not, he has been nothing but honest about his intentions. He will see You-Know-Who defeated. I trust him. Surely, Albus, that should be good enough for you?"

Shacklebolt chuckled darkly as she threw Dumbledore's own words against him. Dumbledore merely nodded, and said, eyes still twinkling, "Of course it is, my dear. I simply wish he could have trusted me to help him."

"Why should he, when you never trusted him?" McGonagall retorted, and Harry was struck by the vehemence in her tone.

"My dear, I fear that you are laboring under an unfortunate misapprehension. I did trust Severus. I still do –"

"Bollocks," Tonks interrupted. "You _say_ you do, but you don't. If you did, you would've asked _him_ for his family tree. Not me. You'd have believed him when he said he didn't know about the dementor attack. You'd have given him the defense position, assuming he ever really wanted it."

Dumbledore sighed. "Perhaps I have wronged him. But such was never my intention. I only ever wanted what was best for him."

The door to the kitchen opened. Snape stood just behind the open door, clad in his usual robes. His skin seemed more gray than usual, but there was otherwise no sign that he had been ill just a few minutes before. Hellspawn blazed upon his shoulder.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Dumbledore," he said softly, but his voice carried easily. "Come. We have much to discuss." He glanced at the others. "If you are still willing to assist the Damned, you should come as well. Speculation is no doubt worse than the truth." And with that, he turned back into the kitchen, robes billowing dramatically in his wake.

A/N: Please review!


	103. Chapter 103

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 103**

"Harry, perhaps you should wait out here," Dumbledore began. Potter frowned.

 _"_ _He should stay,"_ Hellspawn said. _"He's confused, and at this point, knowing half of the story is worse than knowing all of it. Just don't mention the horcruxes around him."_

Severus frowned slightly but yielded to the phoenix's judgment. "Let him in," he said from where he sat at one end of the kitchen table. "He has already witnessed enough to see me dead should the Dark Lord invade his mind. Keeping further details from him serves no purpose. If nothing else, no doubt he has concerns about his occlumency lessons. We can throw him back out should we need to discuss any particularly _sensitive_ information."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at the emphasis on "sensitive," and Severus know that he understood that to mean the horcruxes. "Very well, then. After you, my boy." He gestured for Potter to take a seat. He glanced at the surprisingly still unconscious form of Sirius Black, but made no move to revive him before entering the kitchen and joining the others at the table.

As soon as everyone was seated, Severus closed the door with a silent wave of his hand from where he sat. It would serve as a subtle display of power following his recent bout of weakness. "First, Hellspawn has informed me that Lord Grindelwald is recovering. He is unable to join us for the moment, but he should be restored to full health within the day." _He had a heart attack from channeling too much power, and then was hit by two stunners. It is a wonder he survived at all, even accounting for phoenix tears._

Dumbledore let out a small sigh of relief. _So, you were worried about him after all._ "Now, with that said, I recognize that you wish to revisit the terms of our alliance. On behalf of the Penitent Damned, I am willing to overlook your most recent breach of contract for the sake of our common aims. However, my patience has reached an end. You will rein in your minions. You will inform me or Lord Grindelwald of _any_ information you possess that affects the war effort. You will come to our aid when we fight our common enemy."

Judging by the astonished faces staring at him from across the table, they had expected him to open by apologizing for his deception. _The best defense is a good offense. And I can be_ very _offensive._

"You believe that we have breached the terms of the contract?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus smirked. "I know that you have," he replied silkily. "Lord Grindelwald reviews the Johann Wolfgang accounts at Gringotts quite regularly, and he has shared his findings with me. You have repeatedly withheld vital information from us, your allies. Not fifteen minutes ago, your associate physically assaulted me. Before that, you withheld your aid as I dueled our mutual foe. I am an able wizard, Mister Dumbledore, but I make no claims to be capable of besting him in single combat. Together, though, we might have prevailed in rendering him a bodiless spirit once more."

"And yet you have likewise withheld information from us," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Your identity as Mordred. Your failing health."

Severus shrugged. "I am curious. Now that you know that I am Mordred, what has changed? Tell me, how does my identity alter the course of the war?" There was a pause as no one answered, and he snorted derisively. "I thought not. It satisfies your curiosity, but changes little beyond your perception of me. If anything, I suspect that you will be less likely to heed my suggestions now that you are cognizant of their source."

"And your health?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Again, Severus shrugged. "What of it? The demise of Miss Vance today should demonstrate the uncertain fate of all those who fight in this war. I shall participate until I am no longer able to do so."

"But you _are_ dying, aren't you?"

"I am," Severus replied evenly. It took all of his skill at occlumency not to rage and scream at Dumbledore, to remember to present the cold calm of Mordred even while no longer wearing that face. If he were to retain Tonks and Shacklebolt among the Damned, he must not give the prodigal aurors cause to return to the Order's waiting arms.

Across from him, Tonks gasped, and Shacklebolt's stoic, still-polyjuiced face twitched in surprise. Potter's eyes widened, and he glanced from Severus to McGonagall to Dumbledore. Neither showed any surprise, but Dumbledore's expression grew grave.

"How long do you have, my boy?" he asked.

Severus frowned. "First, I am not your boy. I shall never be yours again. Nor can I answer your question with any precision. There are far too many factors involved. The Dark Lord may execute me at my next summons. He may curse any number of my internal organs so that they cease to function properly. Alternatively, my research into a more efficacious treatment might prove successful, and I shall emerge fully restored."

"But at your current rate of decline?" Dumbledore pressed.

"May, perhaps June." _And I will lose my ability to function easily sooner even than that._

Tonks began to cry softly. Shacklebolt looked stunned for a moment, and then reached into his pocket and wordlessly handed her a handkerchief.

"Is there anything that I can do?" Dumbledore asked.

"Are you able to raise the dead?" Dumbledore choked, and Severus smirked. "And not even the Elder Wand can mend the cracks in my heart," Severus added drily. He watched as the blue eyes narrowed, and he knew that Dumbledore had understood the unspoken words. _Enobarbus Syndrome._

"Oh, my b- Severus, I mean. I am so sorry. I had no idea." Dumbledore paused, and then asked softly, "How is it that your magic has not suffered?"

"Again, I fail to see how this is relevant," Severus drawled. "Unless you are aware of a treatment that I am not?"

"Enobarbus? You?" Tonks exclaimed, apparently making the connection. She immediately raised her hands to her mouth, embarrassed.

McGonagall blinked. "Oh, that explains a great deal," she whispered.

"What's Enobarbus?" Potter asked, confused.

"Dying of a broken heart," Shacklebolt replied. "Very rare."

"What?" Potter asked, sounding almost hysterical in his surprise. "You're dying from _love?_ "

A/N: Please review!


	104. Chapter 104

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 104**

"What?" Potter asked, sounding almost hysterical in his surprise. "You're dying from _love?_ "

"Ah, Harry, love is a great and mysterious force. It can be the most wondrous and the most terrible of things. Your mother's love, after all, saved you from Lord Voldemort, and it protects you even now," Dumbledore said. Severus tried and failed to contain a snort of disgust. Dumbledore, unfortunately, noticed. "It is not so dissimilar for you, Severus. It is her love after all, isn't it?"

Severus's rage exploded. _You promised never to mention it, old man!_ Ignoring both Potter's goggling astonishment and McGonagall's furious glare at Dumbledore, he rose smoothly from his chair. In a low, menacing voice absolutely devoid of warmth, he hissed, "I am not Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore. For all that both you and he see him in me, I never have been."

 _"Your eyes are red,"_ Hellspawn said suddenly. Severus felt a jolt of panic through their link.

 **"What?"** he hissed. Across from him, McGonagall gasped quietly. Tonks and Shacklebolt drew their wands and pointed them at him with the smooth precision that came from auror training, a mix of horror and fear evident on their faces. Dumbledore's blue eyes had turned cold and unreadable.

 _"Parseltongue,"_ Hellspawn added. _"Are you feeling possessed right now? Because you look possessed, but you don't_ feel _possessed."_

Severus suddenly laughed and returned to his seat. Everyone flinched except for Dumbledore. "Oh, but of course. Were my eyes red earlier?" _Transfiguration, polyjuice, and glamour mean nothing. No magical power known can hide the truth when a wizard's eyes turn a cursed red._

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted.

"And you did not see fit to inform me? I am, naturally, aware of my newfound fluency in parseltongue, but this most recent symptom had escaped my attention until now. Did you fear possession, or simply my succumbing to the dark?"

The others visibly relaxed.

 _"Your eyes are black again,"_ Hellspawn informed him. _That explains their reactions._

"The former. I apologize if my concerns were misplaced, but I could not risk falling for one of Tom's ploys."

Severus nodded curtly. "I accept your explanation. To the best of my knowledge, I have not experienced any other symptoms that would indicate potential possession. You may be relieved to know that both Hellspawn and Gellert have been alerted to the possibility, and are attentive to any additional signs. Our working theory is temporary contact with the source."

Dumbledore nodded, frowning slightly. He apparently recognized the oblique reference to the Rod of Paracelsus. "I suppose that is a plausible theory, assuming a lack of further symptoms. Hellspawn, if you agree with that assessment, would you mind circling Severus once? Simply for my own peace of mind, you understand."

Hellspawn launched himself form Severus's shoulder and flew once around his head before resuming his position.

 _"He doesn't really get the whole 'trust' concept, does he?"_ Hellspawn asked.

"It was a reasonable precaution in this instance," Severus disagreed.

 _"Even a broken clock is right twice a day."_

"Thank you." Dumbledore sighed. "I shall raise any further concerns with you directly. I trust that we can move on from this misunderstanding?"

 _Trust? You? I doubt it._ Nevertheless, Severus inclined his head. "Agreed. However, I would ask that you do not spread information about either my identity or my health beyond this room, even to other members of the Order. Black ought to be _obliviated_ , as he has repeatedly demonstrated that he cannot control his impulses."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. Does anyone else have any objections?" No one did. It seemed that even Potter was unable to defend Black now. _Oh, how times have changed._ "Excellent. Then if there is nothing else –"

"Wait," Potter exclaimed, staring at Severus in delayed shock as the realization finally hit him. "You're in love with my _mum_?" He sounded absolutely horrified.

Severus felt the familiar pain reassert itself. "You can rest assured, Potter, that the feelings were never mutual," he snarled. "No doubt you can feel comforted by the knowledge that even now she is doing her part to rid the world of dark wizards."

"Severus –" Dumbledore began.

"No," he snapped, feeling the phoenix's flames rise within him. "You swore _silence_ , old man. Am I not dying swiftly enough as it is? Every time you mention _her_ , you reinforce its progression. You let her _die_. You _knew_ the Dark Lord was after her, and you did _nothing_ to save her. At least he offered her a chance! That is more than _you_ ever did!"

"Your eyes are on fire, my boy," Dumbledore said mildly.

 _"Oh, that would be me,"_ Hellspawn said.

"Hellspawn's influence," Severus spat. _And of course there would be visual side effects of our bond. Because I so desperately needed yet another way for the Dark Lord to discover my treachery._ "Do not change the subject."

"Do you truly with to discuss this here and now, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing vaguely at the others in the room. Potter shot him a betrayed look.

 _"If you continue like this, you'll probably end up hexing him. Not that I'd be opposed to that, mind you. He deserves a good hexing or two,"_ Hellspawn added. _"Oh, and your eyes are back to normal again."_

Severus narrowed his – once again – black eyes. "Fine," he snarled. "Are there any other concerns you feel we must address?"

"What's this about my mum?" Potter demanded. He stared at Dumbledore. "You could have saved her?" _Yes, he could have. But he failed her. And he will suffer for it._

"My boy, we did all we could to protect your parents. Alas, they placed their trust in the wrong person, and our work was undone."

Potter frowned. "But –"

"Enough," McGonagall interjected. "We have gone off on a tangent. Severus, is there anything else we should be aware of regarding your role as Mordred? I am curious, for instance, about Mister Potter's occlumency lessons, as I recall you assisting Mordred with his initial demonstration. I take it that this was actually Lord Grindelwald under polyjuice?"

 _Changing the topic when you already know the answer? How very clever of you._ Severus was not certain whether to thank McGonagall for turning the discussion away from Lily or to curse her for interrupting Potter now that the brat finally seemed to have discovered the depths of Dumbledore's failings. He settled for answering her question. If nothing else, she deserved his acquiescence for the loyalty she had demonstrated earlier. "Mordred's 'Cyrus Ostad' role is indeed Lord Grindelwald, Headmistress McGonagall. When someone admits to employing polyjuice, do not assume that his true identity is what he claims it to be," he drawled.

Potter flushed. He breathed in and out for a few seconds, apparently to steady himself. Severus was almost impressed. The brat had obviously learned _something_ from his occlumency lessons. Once he was back under control, Potter asked tightly, "So you let Grindelwald in my head?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Would you have preferred that I teach you?"

"No," Potter replied, sounding petulant. "Sir," he added after a moment.

"Then I fail to see your concern. You informed Headmistress McGonagall that you did not wish for me to instruct you. Mordred is, ultimately, a fictional construct. He is a part that Lord Grindelwald and I share based on our current needs. Your need to learn occlumency necessitated that he take on the role at that time. That is all."

Potter glared, but then he nodded sulkily. "And that orb?" he asked. "The prophecy, or whatever it was?"

"Something that we cannot discuss until you have mastered occlumency," Severus replied silkily. There was no point in telling Potter that the orb had been a clever forgery, nor that the original prophecy had already been fulfilled. If the Dark Lord should glean that information from his mind, they would lose an important tactical advantage.

Severus watched, mildly amused, as Potter bit back a retort. In the awkward silence that followed, Dumbledore asked mildly, "Are there any other cases in which Gellert has become Mordred?"

Severus shrugged. "Rarely. Aside from the occlumency lessons, he has only taken on the role when I needed to appear alongside Mordred for other reasons." He smiled coldly. "All of your prior interactions have been with me, I assure you." He turned to Tonks and Shacklebolt. "Are you willing to continue working with us?"

Tonks frowned, but then nodded. "You're a dark wizard. You said that before, but I didn't believe it, not really. I mean, you have a bloody _phoenix._ " She shuddered. "I believe it now. That singing . . . Merlin, but I don't like it. Your methods, I mean. They're _wrong_ , really, really wrong." She sighed. "But I can't argue with your results. Damn it. Yeah, I can work with you." She glanced at Dumbledore and then back at Severus. "At least you're doing something." She smiled grimly. "And it's not like I have to worry about aiding and abetting the next dark lord, is it? Not given . . . well, everything." _Fantastic. Who would have thought that my impending demise would actually work in my favor?_

Shacklebolt nodded slowly. "Agreed."

Severus inclined his head. "Thank you. And now, if you will excuse me, Hellspawn and I have a Death Eater to threaten."

It was time to rescue Lucius.

A/N: Please review!


	105. Chapter 105

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 105**

Harry watched, feeling numb, as Snape and Hellspawn vanished in a flash of flame. He wanted to talk about what had just happened with Ron and Hermione. He doubted he could make sense out of it otherwise. _But that would be a security risk,_ he thought bitterly.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "What was Snape saying about my mum?" he demanded.

"Master Snape, Harry," Dumbledore correctly gently. _As if you're the one to lecture me on proper courtesy when dealing with Snape._ "And, I fear, his grief at her loss colors his perceptions."

"Poor bastard," Shacklebolt murmured, shaking his head.

Tonks nodded grimly. "Enobarbus is a bad way to go." From what Harry had seen, he could not disagree with her assessment. Those terrible, hacking coughs . . . the blood . . . . The killing curse seemed almost kind in comparison. She shook her head. "Never thought I'd see it outside of my mum's bedtime stories."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. He knew that Shacklebolt had said that it was rare, but it couldn't be _that_ rare if everyone knew about it.

"Enobarbus Syndrome is a common literary trope, Mister Potter," McGonagall explained, "as it affects those who suffer from unrequited love. It appears far more often in fiction than it does in reality. Only a miniscule fraction of witches and wizards have ever been diagnosed with the condition."

"Oh." And it seemed that Snape was one of them. And that he was in love with Harry's _mum_. That was fairly sickening, no matter that Snape was on their side. _If she'd returned his feelings, would Snape have been my dad?_ Harry shuddered at the thought, and then immediately felt guilty. _Snape's actually_ dying _from it. No wonder he hates me. He probably thinks of her whenever he sees me. He told Dumbledore that it physically hurts him to think about my mum._ "And there's nothing that can cure it?"

"Only if the object of one's affections returns the sentiment," Dumbledore replied. He smiled gently at Harry, blue eyes twinkling. "However, the fact that he is still alive and functioning after so long is remarkable. I would not discount his ability to survive."

-DVDVDV-

With a flash of flame, Severus and Hellspawn appeared in the small bedroom in Spinner's End. Gellert lay on the bed, unconscious but breathing easily. Severus cast a quick diagnostic charm and released a small sigh of relief upon seeing the results. Hellspawn's description of Gellert's condition had been accurate. The former dark lord would recover soon.

Leaving the room, Severus headed to the bathroom, where he changed into Mordred's elegant, understated robes of a deep russet. His blood robes were utterly ruined without the aid of extensive transfiguration, and Severus resigned himself to having to purchase another set. _Perhaps I can delegate that task to Gellert. He seems to enjoy shopping more than I do, and he has demonstrated no inclinations towards Dumbledore's ridiculous fashion sense._ He carefully transfigured his features, drank the polyjuice, and set the glamour.

"Let's go and see Lucius," he said, and with another flash of flame, he and Hellspawn appeared in one of the many guest bedrooms of Malfoy Manor. Lucius Malfoy, still clad in his Death Eater regalia, lay unconscious on the huge four-poster bed. Severus cast a series of privacy spells to ward the room from eavesdroppers, and then removed Lucius's wand, placing it carefully in his pocket. He sat in an elegant, antique wooden chair on the other side of the room. Pointing his spare wand at Lucius, he whispered, " _Ennervate._ "

Lucius awoke with a start. Even through the silver mask, Severus could sense his friend's alarm. He held up one hand, and said calmly, "Good evening, Lucius Malfoy. My name is Mordred, and my companion here is Hellspawn. We have a proposition for you. Please, take a seat if you would feel more comfortable." He gestured towards the chair across from him.

The tension in Lucius's shoulders eased a fraction when he realized that he would not be immediately hexed. He slowly removed the silver mask from his face and set it to his side. He stood from the bed, walked over to the offered chair, and sat.

"Thank you," Severus said. "After you were rendered unconscious earlier this evening, I took the liberty of asking Hellspawn to recover your body and bring you here. Reinforcements arrived at the Ministry, and I dueled your so-called Dark Lord. He survived, but he will remain unable to act for several more hours. During this brief period of respite, I would like to offer you and your family refuge."

Lucius's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, before narrowing again in suspicion. "If you will forgive me for asking, why would you concern yourself with our welfare?" he asked.

"Tom Riddle – the man you know as the Dark Lord – is an enemy of mine," Severus replied. "But his followers are not. My comrade, Lord Grindelwald, has already rescued Walden McNair from Riddle's service. We had hoped to offer the same protection to Darius Nott, but, alas, the Order of the Phoenix intervened. We shall not make the same mistake again."

"And what do you require in exchange for your protection?" Lucius asked, still wary.

"Nothing," Severus replied evenly. "I would place Malfoy Manor under _fidelius_ , with you or your wife as secret keeper. You could choose to remain in a magical coma for the duration of the war, as McNair did, or else remain conscious, safe within your home for as long as you choose."

"You simply seek our neutrality?" Lucius asked slowly. "Forgive me, but this arrangement appears too good to be true."

Severus sighed. He knew his friend well enough to understand that he still suspected a trap. He might agree to the _fidelius_ to protect Narcissa and Draco, but he still feared retribution for serving Voldemort. Severus would need to convince him. "Indeed," he admitted. "Under normal circumstances, you would be correct. However, one of your colleagues has accepted my service in exchange for your life and the lives of your family. As proof of his good intentions, he asked me to convey the following message to you: Facunditas Philter."

Lucius paled at the reference to the highly illegal potion that Severus had brewed for him and Narcissa sixteen years ago. They had been unable to have children together. Heartbroken, they had begged Severus for help. The dark potion he had prepared for them allowed Draco to be conceived, but rendered both Lucius and Narcissa infertile afterwards. Neither would ever have any more children. The three of them had never mentioned the potion again. Severus could be sent to Azkaban for having brewed it, as could Lucius and Narcissa for having ingested it willingly.

"Severus?" Lucius whispered. "Why would he risk himself? The Dark Lord will kill him for such a betrayal."

"Your friend is already dying, Lucius Malfoy," Severus said. If Lucius accepted his offer, he doubted he would have another opportunity to see his friend before he died. This would have to suffice as a farewell. "Surely, you have seen how his health has declined over the years? He will give me what time he has left, and in doing so will protect his friends."

"Oh, Severus," Lucius murmured. "How I wish I had been wrong." He nodded. "Thank you. And please, thank Severus for me. I owe him a debt I can never repay. We will go under _fidelius_. There is no need to place us in a coma. Can you bring Draco here?"

Severus nodded. "Certainly. Hellspawn and I will return shortly with your son."

A/N:

Since several people have asked about Tonks's comments related to Snape and the dark arts last chapter, keep in mind that he demonstrated some very illegal dark magic in the battle at the Ministry. Fiendfyre alone is worth 50 years in Azkaban just for being cast, let alone used to melt someone (even someone like Bellatrix Lestrange). Tonks is an auror, and seeing a dark lord use dark magic is very different than hearing that someone admit to being a dark lord. Emotionally, it's not something easy for her to stomach, even if she might be able to understand intellectually why he did it.

Please review!


	106. Chapter 106

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 106**

It was almost midnight before Grindelwald's thrice-cursed runic array wore off and Voldemort found that he could move again. He immediately summoned all of the Death Eaters who had been with him at the Ministry.

Only seven appeared.

Eleven of his Death Eaters were dead, killed by Grindelwald and the so-called Mordred. Moody might have contributed as well, but Voldemort did not delude himself by thinking that any of Dumbledore's other soft-hearted subordinated would have dared demonstrate the power and will necessary to kill his followers. At least three other Death Eaters were captured. No one know what had happened to Lucius. He had fallen into a cloud of smoke, and had been gone when it cleared.

At least Rodolphus Lestrange had had the presence of mind to disapparate with his frozen lord, or the situation might have been even worse. His sense had fled soon after, though. He stared, practically catatonic, at the wall of the large ballroom, murmuring his wife's name over and over in a litany of grief that Voldemort recognized but could not understand. Bellatrix had been loyal, however, as loyal as her husband. He would spare Rodolphus punishment for his pathetic display. For now, at least.

He dismissed his followers, sinking into his throne as he contemplated his next actions. He glanced down at his hand. It still gripped the prophecy orb that Mordred had so carelessly dropped. Voldemort smiled. At least the mission had not been a complete failure.

According to Rookwood's information, he could activate the recording either by smashing the orb or by tapping it twice with his wand. Deciding that he might wish to hear it more than once, he tapped it. A deep, harsh, echoing voice emerged.

 _"_ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord shall watch for the lightning, ignoring the coming of the thunder. Deaf or death, the Dark Lord must choose. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . ."_

Voldemort frowned as the voice trailed away. He tapped the orb twice more with his wand, and listened again to the words. _Lightning and thunder. Robards spoke of both before he died. "The thunder comes after the lightning," he had said. Did he know the prophecy?_

 _He had been blinded before my pet killed him. The prophetic words of a dying man. The blind seer._

 _Lightning and thunder. Potter's scar is in the shape of a lightning bolt. Was I in error when I deemed him the threat, all those years ago? The thunder . . . could that be the Longbottom boy? But no, he has on magical skills to speak of. Severus has assured me of this, and Lucius's report from his son corroborate that._

 _Mordred dared to suggest that I misinterpreted even the single line I knew. "Borne" rather than "born." If the true threat were brought to my enemies, he could be of any age. Or was he simply taunting me?_

 _Mordred is a powerful wizard, far more powerful than Potter. How could such a man have hidden himself from me? "Ignoring the coming of the thunder . . . ." Yes, perhaps he is the thunder, then. Who is he, if Mordred is not his true name? He sounded foreign. Dutch, perhaps? Would he have attended Beaubatons, then, or Durmstrang? He appeared to be about thirty, but ages can be deceiving. He was wearing a glamour, after all._

 _And what of Dolohov's claims that Mordred spoke in parseltongue prior to my arrival? Could he be my horcrux, alive in the world? The only other parselmouths are Potter and Severus, and my pet remains far too weak for such a display of power._

Voldemort considered his duel with Mordred, and then frowned as he saw again how the prophecy fell from the man's fingers. _It was intentional, though he sought to make it appear accidental. Was that for my benefit, or that of the watching crowd? Could_ he _be my horcrux, publically declaring himself my enemy and yet assisting me in secret? But then, why kill my loyal Death Eaters? Or is it some deeper plan involving Grindelwald? Followers are expendable in the face of the greater plan, after all._

 _He cannot be my horcrux_ , Voldemort decided. _I would never align myself with a phoenix, even one so bloodthirsty as that._

 _And yet, is he enemy or ally? More importantly, what does my prophesied choice entail? How would it even be a choice? I would never choose death._

Voldemort mulled over the words until well into morning.

-DVDVDV-

 _YOU-KNOW-WHO ATTACKS MINISTRY!_

 _DUELS GRINDELWALD, UNKNOWN WIZARD_

 _November 10, 1995_

 _Ministry of Magic, London – Last night, Ministry officials defends the Ministry of Magic and visiting guests against a Death Eater attack. Heavily outnumbered, the auror contingent and their civilian allies managed to halt the enemy's progress, containing them within the entry atrium, which suffered considerable damage in the battle._

 _To the shock of many present, Lord Grindelwald appeared in the fray, attacking Death Eaters and Ministry officials alike. He was joined by an unknown blond wizard styling himself as "Prince Mordred." Little is known about his mysterious associate, who fought with a phoenix upon his shoulder. Despite the loyalty of one of the lightest of light creatures, Mordred demonstrated a disturbing talent for the dark arts._

 _As the Death Eaters fell back, You-Know-Who himself appeared, bolstering his forces. He dueled Grindelwald and Mordred before escaping with several of his followers. Aurors rendered Grindelwald unconscious, but the former dark lord escaped capture through the actions of Mordred's phoenix companion. Mordred himself disappeared from a secure Ministry holding cell shortly thereafter, with only a phoenix feather to prove anyone had been there at all._

 _Eleven Death Eaters, two aurors, and one civilian were killed. Seven others are currently in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, undergoing treatment for injuries sustained in the battle. Three Death Eaters were captured, including Auror Erwin Eddington, who had apparently been a sleeper agent in the department for decades._

 _Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour issued a joint statement with his Bulgarian counterpart, Azula Gerov. "We are requesting that Prince Mordred appear before the auror office to answer some questions. He is a talented, dangerous wizard, and we recommend that the public approach him with caution. His aims are as yet unknown. At this time, we are not calling for his arrest."_

 _How many other aurors will be uncovered as dark wizard sympathizers? Are Eddington and Shacklebolt the only two, or is the DMLE riddled with You-Know-Who's supporters?_

 _Who is the mysterious Prince Mordred? Is he a much-needed ally against the threat of You-Know-Who? Or is he another dark lord seeking dominance? Is he as dark as his magic seems, or as light as his phoenix companion? Why would a phoenix aid Lord Grindelwald?_

 _For a list of the dead, see page 2._

Harry set down _The Daily Prophet_ with a small sigh of frustration. The Ministry had clearly taken great pains to paint themselves in a far more favorable light. The newspaper had not mentioned anything about Fudge being _imperiused_. Harry guessed that was omitted so that people did not lose faith in the Ministry, but it galled him nonetheless. Instead, the _Prophet_ made it sound as if the aurors had done most of the fighting. Dumbledore's presence was not even mentioned. _Then again, he didn't actually_ do _anything, did he?_ Harry thought, remembering the conversation in Grimmauld Place.

 _Well, I guess_ technically _aurors did fight. Tonks was there, and Moody's a retired auror._

Harry hoped that Moody was alright. He reread the short note that Lupin had sent him, assuring Harry that he was being fitted to his new leg and should be up and about soon. Moody, though, had apparently experienced a brain hemorrhage, and the healers could not be certain to what extent he would recover. Despite Lupin's optimistic tone, Harry could tell that they were not convinced that the ex-auror would ever recover.

Harry glanced up at the staff table. McGonagall looked tired, but otherwise appeared fairly normal as she read the _Prophet_ with pursed lips. Snape, too, seemed unaffected by the previous night's events. Staring at him now, Harry would never have guessed that he was dying.

-DVDVDV-

By lunchtime, everyone in the school knew that Draco Malfoy was missing. By dinner, everyone in magical Britain knew that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared as well. Even their manor had inexplicably vanished.

A/N: Please review!


	107. Chapter 107

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 107**

That evening, Severus fingered the letter that Lucius had written him. He had read it several times already, but he wanted to savor it for as long as possible before he destroyed it.

 _"_ _Dear Severus,_

 _"Words cannot sufficiently convey my thanks for the service that you have rendered me and my family, and so I will not even attempt to find them. Simply know that you have given me back my hope. You have preserved that which is more precious to me than my life, and for that you shall forever have the gratitude of the Malfoys. There is nothing that I can offer that is equal to the salvation that you have provided. If there is anything that you need, now or in the future, merely ask and it shall be yours._

 _"_ _Severus, I hope that the words your comrade spoke to me were false, and that you are not dying even as I write this letter. Narcissa and I have worried for some time, and I regret that the signs all point to him being correct. I know that I have no right to demand any more from you beyond that which you have already so selflessly provided, and yet I require one last service of you, my dearest friend. Survive. Survive this accursed war and whatever infirmity ails you. Survive, because the wizarding world will be far poorer for losing you. Survive, because I never deserved such a friend as you, and yet cannot imagine a life in which you are no longer a part. A Malfoy never begs, and yet I beg you now. Survive, Severus._

 _"_ _Your servant,_

 _"_ _Lucius"_

Enclosed with the letter was a detailed description of various plots and plans the Dark Lord had either already begun undertaking or was considering. Severus had handed the information to McGonagall for her to relay to the rest of the Order. Most of them related to political maneuvers behind the scenes, and he could only hope that the Order would deal with them with more subtlety than they usually employed.

As he reread the letter once more, he felt the Dark Mark on his left arm burn. With a silent _incendio_ , he destroyed the letter and then donned his robes and mask. Disillusioning himself, he hurried through the halls and to the Hogwarts gates. As soon as he reached the boundary, he disapparated.

"Severusss," Voldemort hissed from his marble throne. "You are late. _Crucio!_ " Severus fell to the floor, his limbs flailing wildly as the torture curse seized him. He swallowed a scream. Seconds of unending agony passed. At last, he could no longer maintain his silence. He screamed. Dimly, he was aware of Voldemort hissing disdainfully in parseltongue, **"Still so very weak."** At last, he released the curse. Wearily, Severus gathered his still-twitching limbs into a semblance of his useful respectful kneeling position. "Rise, Severusss," Voldemort commanded, and he struggled to stand despite the unsteadiness of his legs. "What does the Order say about the eventsss in the Ministry?"

"My Lord, they are counting it a great loss. Despite the relative casualties on either side, they believe that their failure to safeguard the prophecy will pose a significant long-term setback. The possibility of Moody's permanent impairment likewise is causing much consternation, as he has long been responsible for training new recruits," Severus replied softly, trying to minimize any gasps of pain from coloring his voice. "Moreover, they are concerned about the possibility of a new enemy, fearing that the alliance between Grindelwald and this new wizard might pull Britain into a three-way civil war."

Voldemort hissed wordlessly. "What do they know of thisss Mordred?"

"Very little, my Lord. They do not know his true name, but believe that he is from the Netherlands based on his accent. Dumbledore has sent inquiries to both Durmstrang and Beaubatons inquiring as to his identity. Furthermore, he has decried Mordred as a dark wizard, despite the evidence of his phoenix companion, and he rejected suggestions to seek an alliance with him." Severus paused, and then added, "Dumbledore claims that Mordred's eyes glowed red during the fight in the Ministry, although the other Order members who were present do not recall the same." _Did my eyes truly turn red, or was Dumbledore simply seizing upon a convenient excuse?_

Voldemort's legilimency probe hit Severus then, but fortunately he was prepared. He presented a modified version of the discussion at Grimmauld Place, obscuring any signs that he and Mordred were the same person. Releasing the probe, Voldemort said, "You have done well, my pet. Glean as much information as you can about Mordred. I must know his identity. And now, Severusss, give me your arm."

Severus held out his left arm, trying to will it to stop trembling but with only marginal success. Voldemort stood from his throne and strode over to him. The Dark Mark burned hot and cruel as he activated it, summoning his other followers.

-DVDVDV-

Voldemort returned to his throne, watching dispassionately as his Death Eaters began to apparate into the ballroom. After the pathetic display at the Ministry, he needed to make a show of strength to the wizarding world. Even as he mapped out a plan against his next targets, his mind reviewed the troubling report that his faithful pet had given him.

 _Was Dumbledore lying? Mordred_ had _used dark magic, and he did maneuver the prophecy into my hands. And yet the phoenix suggests a rejection of such arts. Does Dumbledore fear Mordred supplanting him as leader of the light?_ Voldemort had not noticed Mordred's eyes glow red. And, according to his pet, no one else did, either.

 _Dumbledore must have realized that I created horcruxes, as he has had years to consider my diary. Does he wish to convince me that Mordred is my horcrux, so that I dare not attack him? Does he consider Mordred to be the thunder, the one with the power to destroy me? Or does he himself believe that Mordred is my horcrux, regardless of whether or not that is truly the case? Could Dumbledore have caught a glint of the truth in his eyes?_

 _Where is my horcrux now?_

-DVDVDV-

Albus Dumbledore smiled. Finally, finally, he had made a breakthrough. Years of effort in searching the area around Little Hangleton had, at last, borne fruit. He had broken through Voldemort's extensive misdirection spells and discovered the location of the Gaunt hovel. If his suspicions were correct, either Slytherin's locket or the Resurrection Stone would be hidden within.

The feeling of triumph almost overshadowed his horror over the recent string of disasters plaguing the Order. Emmaline Vance, a hero of the first war against Voldemort, hit by a killing curse. Alastor Moody, who had been Albus's friend since the days of Gellert's rise, lay unresponsive in Saint Mungo's. He had been so tempted to blame Severus for the ex-auror's condition, but could not be certain if the cursed phoenix song or some Death Eater hex had caused the damage, and he dared not accuse the man given the fragility of their alliance. Remus Lupin, at least, would recover. Albus had used his own personal funds to purchase the best wooden prosthetic leg he could, knowing that Remus could never afford one himself. _Two people Severus loathed in the hospital, and yet all accounts claim that he sent Hellspawn to stabilize Remus. He would have bled out otherwise._

Learning that Severus was Mordred after all had been a terrible blow, and seeing how far entrenched he was in the dark arts had made him fear for the lives of everyone in Britain. Although he felt ashamed for thinking it, he consoled himself with the knowledge that Severus's impending death would save them from the rise of yet another dark lord. He could not fathom how a phoenix could stand to bond with someone so encased in darkness, and yet never had Hellspawn's name seemed so apt as when he sang in the Ministry atrium. Only Fawkes's assurances had convinced him that Hellspawn was, in fact, the phoenix that he appeared to be rather than the demonic creature after which he was named.

 _"_ _You should take Gellert with you,"_ Fawkes said. _"You miss him, and the quest was always yours and his, together."_

Albus considered, and then nodded, eyes twinkling. "Yes, I dare say you're right. Besides, he deserves a 'get well' present, doesn't he?"

Returning to Grimmauld Place, Albus found Gellert already sitting in the library, Hellspawn perched upon his shoulder. He looked wan, but otherwise unharmed following the events in the Ministry. As Albus watched, he demonstrated a runic sequence to Bill Weasley.

"I hope I am not interrupting," Albus said with a smile, blue eyes twinkling.

"Oh, hello, sir," Bill said, startling slightly upon seeing him. Gellert merely smiled and nodded lazily.

"How are Alastor and Remus faring?"

"Remus is doing much better. The healers think he can be discharged this afternoon. They wanted him out this morning – anti-werewolf prejudice, I think – but I managed to convince them to hold off just a bit longer. Moody, though . . . well, he's stabilized, but they're not sure when he'll wake up." _Or if he'll wake up._ Albus could imagine the unsaid words. "Hestia Jones is with him now," Bill added.

"Thank you, my boy. Would you mind if I had a word with Gellert?"

"Sure," Bill said, rising from his seat. As he neared the door, a brilliant silver doe patronus appeared in front of Gellert. Bill stopped, staring at it in shock.

"Raids now. Diagon, Bones, Scrimgeour," the doe said in Severus's voice. Message delivered, it vanished. Albus hid his surprise. He had not expected Severus to be able to conjure a patronus given his recent abuse of the dark arts. Nor did a doe seem to fit his personality. _Lily,_ he realized. _It truly is Enobarbus Syndrome._

"What?" Bill exclaimed.

Gellert rose smoothly to his feet, exchanging a look with Albus, who nodded. "I will inform the Order. Bill, go to Gringotts. Warn the goblins of a potential Death Eater raid. Do not reveal the source of your information." Bill nodded and ran out of the room. Albus summoned his phoenix patronus. "Go to Molly Weasley. Tell her to mobilize the rest of the Order in Diagon Alley. We expect raids in retaliation for yesterday." The patronus vanished. "Madam Bones or Auror Scrimgeour?" he asked Gellert.

Hellspawn trilled.

"Scrimgeour," Gellert said. "Shall we?" He and Hellspawn vanished in a flash of flame. A moment later, Albus and Fawkes vanished as well, reappearing in the office of Amelia Bones. The normally tidy room was in disarray, with papers strewn everywhere and one of the chairs lying in pieces on the floor. Through the open door, Albus could see Bones and her secretary trying to fight off five masked Death Eaters. A red-robed auror lay sprawled, unmoving, across one desk, with a second, red-haired man dressed in brown secretarial robes lying crumpled facedown on the floor.

In the momentary distraction his entrance provided, Bones stunned one of the Death Eaters. Albus drew his wand and bound a second in thick conjured ropes.

"Go!" one of the Death Eaters ordered. He and his two remaining companions disapparated with a loud _crack_.

"I see I chose an excellent time to inquire as to what you have learned from interrogating the prisoners from yesterday's attack," Albus said mildly. He glanced around, but did not see anyone else present. He guessed that it was late enough in the day that everyone else had gone home. He knelt beside the auror and the secretary, and then cast a quick diagnostic spell. "I fear that young Mister Weasley is dead, but Auror Jacobson should make a full recovery assuming we get him to Saint Mungo's soon."

-DVDVDV-

Gellert and Hellspawn appeared in Rufus Scrimgeour's sitting room. The middle-aged, tawny-haired man dropped the book he was reading and cast a stunning spell almost before Gellert had gotten his bearings. He only barely managed to raise a shield in time. _I've gotten old,_ he thought ruefully.

"Death Eaters are coming to kill you. Is anyone else here?" Gellert asked, rolling his eyes slightly as Scrimgeour sent a silent curse his way. It bounced off his shields. The auror cast a blasting hex at the floor in front of Gellert. " _Hominum revelio,"_ Gellert said coolly, and then nodded. "Just us, then. Well, they're also planning to go after Diagon Alley. Let's catch two snidgets with one spell, shall we? Hellspawn, if you would?"

Hellspawn flew to Scrimgeour, and they vanished in a flash of flame. A moment later, Gellert disapparated, reappearing on the steps outside Gringotts, just to the left of the auror and phoenix. Hellspawn flew back to his shoulder. Shops along the street were in flames, and Gellert could see the black-robed forms of Death Eaters darting in the smoke. Scrimgeour fired a curse at one of them, but missed. "Truce," he spat at Gellert. He limped down the stairs with an oddly graceful, loping stride and fired a hex at the nearest Death Eater. Gellert, smiling, jogged down the steps in his wake.

A/N: Please review!


	108. Chapter 108

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 108**

The goblins had thanked Bill Weasley for his warning and offered him a choice. He could remain safe within the walls of Gringotts, or he could leave and fight. If he chose the latter, they would seal the doors behind him as soon as he left the bank. Gringotts would remain neutral in the wizards' war. Bill was a Gryffindor and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He would fight.

He sought out Fleur on his way out of the bank. He begged her to remain inside where it was safe, but she had given him such a disgusted, disdainful look that he had wondered if he had just doomed their relationship. He hoped not. He had been planning on inviting her to the Burrow soon to meet his parents.

"I am not some weak damsel you need to protect!" she hissed. "I am a witch and a Triwizard champion, not just a pretty face." Steam rose from her hands, and Bill remembered that the other side of her veela heritage.

"You're right," he agreed quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. It's just hard, knowing that someone I love could be hurt. But you're right. Of course you're right."

She sniffed dismissively, but the steam dissipated. "I am always right. Do not forget zhat, Bill Weasley," she huffed. He chuckled, and she smiled back at him. Together, they made their way outside. As soon as they passed through, two armored Gringotts goblins closed the doors behind them.

Terrified screams filled the air. From his position at the top of the Gringotts steps, Bill could see ten or fifteen black-robed figures. At least five bodies lay sprawled on the ground, and Bill could only hope that they were unconscious, not dead. One of them was a small child, perhaps six or seven years old. He felt sick. _Monsters._ Raising his wand, he ran towards the fray, a silent _stupefy_ shooting out of his wand towards a short, overweight Death Eater _crucioing_ the elderly wizard who owned the Magical Menagerie.

The Death Eater raised a hasty shield, and Bill saw that he held his wand in a silver hand. _Pettrigrew. The bastard who hid himself as my brothers' pet rat._ The stunning spell bounced harmlessly off. With a squeak, Pettigrew threw a disembowelment curse at Bill, who barely dodged out of the way. A shard of falling masonry hit him as he countered with a hurling hex, causing his aim to be slightly off. The spell flew harmlessly past the Death Eater.

" _Crucio!_ " Pettigrew squeaked, and Bill did not dodge quickly enough. For the first time in his life, he experienced the effects of the torture curse firsthand. He screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

At last, after an eternity of agony, the curse lifted. Bill lay on the ground, limbs twitching madly, but he did not try to move. Dimly, he could hear a woman's voice calling his name, could feel gentle hands shaking him. He felt hot tears on his face, and knew that they were his.

"I am sorry, Bill. I am sorry. Please, please get up. I love you. I'm sorry. I love you. Please get up. Please, Bill," the woman said, over and over again.

But moving was too hard. If he stayed small and still on the ground, he might be safe. They might not hurt him again.

"This iz enough! I will not lose you, Bill Weasley!" the woman said, and she began to glow with a faint silvery light. It cut through the haze of pain, and Bill knew that he had to impress her. It was extremely important that he make her proud of him. He thought about all the things he could do that would make him worthy of her.

 _She wanted me to get up,_ Bill thought dimly. _I should get up. That would impress her, right?_

Dazed and shaking, Bill forced his limbs to move. Slowly, unsteadily, he climbed to his feet, the glowing woman's hands helping him stand. He looked at her, at the goddess come to earth. She was crying. Bill frowned. That was wrong. Goddesses should not cry. He needed to make her happy, so that she would stop crying.

He kissed her.

She smiled. He smiled. If the goddess was happy, then he was happy.

"Bill, you are better now? You will be alright?" she asked. He nodded, smiling happily. "Let me get you away from zis place. It iz not safe 'ere." She paused. "I cannot apparate you like zis, you will be splinched. We will go to Gringotts."

Bill almost slipped on a pool of molten silver on the ground next to the charred form of a one-armed body. He was dimly aware of shouting and bright streaks of light as they walked, but he did not think that they were important. The goddess steered him until they reached the steps of a large marble building, but then one of the lights hit the goddess, and she fell over. Without her to support him, Bill fell to his knees beside her. He blinked, confused. _Why did the goddess stop glowing? Did I do something wrong?_

And suddenly he remembered. "Fleur!" he cried, his voice barely above a croak. Shaking, he reached out to check her pulse. It was still beating. Bill relaxed a fraction. _I need to get her to Gringotts,_ he thought. _How can I get her there?_ It had taken the compulsion of Fleur's allure just to get him to stand.

 _Fleur needs me,_ he thought. _Even if I can't stand, I'm still a wizard._

Bill checked his pockets, and realized to his horror that he must have dropped his wand when the _cruciatus_ spell hit him. He took Fleur's wand from her limp hand. _Sorry, love. I'll give it back to you later._ Pointing it at her, he whispered, " _Mobilicorpus._ " He guided her body up the stone steps. Her foot knocked against the shut doors of the bank. Nothing happened. He had her knock again. _Please, just let her in. She's a Gringotts employee. Please, let her in._

The cobblestones behind him exploded. Reflexively, Bill turned to look, barely managing to maintain the spell keeping Fleur's body afloat. _Please_ , he silently begged, _please let her back in._

There was a bright green light.

And then there was nothing.

A/N: Please review!


	109. Chapter 109

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 109**

 _DEATH EATERS ATTACK DIAGON ALLEY_

 _DOZENS DEAD_

 _November 11, 1995_

 _London – Death Eaters launched a vicious attack on Diagon Alley yesterday evening. Over thirty witches and wizards have been confirmed dead, with fifteen others currently receiving treatment in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Twenty-two people have been reported as missing._

 _The Death Eaters destroyed Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Magical Menagerie, and they caused major structural damage to several other buildings within Britain's foremost wizarding shopping district._

 _Ministry officials believe that yesterday's violence was in retaliation for the Death Eaters' recent defeat in the Ministry of Magic. The attack was timed to coincide with an assassination attempt on Madam Amelia Bones. Fortunately, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was able to defend herself until reinforcements arrived._

 _In addition, the Ministry reports that Chief Auror Rufus Scrimgeour's Devonshire home was destroyed around 8:25pm yesterday, and that the Dark Mark was cast over the rubble. However, Scrimgeour was not present in his home at the time._

 _"_ _He was here, in Diagon Alley," said Sebastian Flourish, co-owner of Flourish and Blotts. "He saved everyone in the shop. Two Death Eaters had us cornered, and he knocked them out. Once they were down, he checked that we were okay, and then ran off after the others."_

 _Witnesses report that Scrimgeour defeated a total of four Death Eaters before being cursed himself. He is currently recovering in Saint Mungo's._

 _For a full list of the dead, see page 2._

Harry exchanged a horrified glance with Hermione, and then quickly turned to the second page. Late last night, McGonagall had come to Gryffindor tower and summoned Ron, Ginny, and the twins. She had looked grim, but had refused to answer any questions. None of the Weasleys had been seen since.

And there it was, at the bottom of the list. _Percy Ignatius Weasley, Ministry of Magic_ , followed by _William Arthur Weasley, Diagon Alley._ Two of Ron's brothers were dead. Percy would never get a chance to reconcile with the rest of his family.

"Oh, God," Hermione whispered. "The poor Weasleys."

Harry felt tears prickle his eyes. He wiped them away angrily. He had no right to be upset. He had never been particularly close to Percy, and he had only barely met Bill. But he remembered how Amos Diggory and his wife had looked after Cedric died. He could picture Molly and Arthur Weasley in their place. He could see their children's grief.

Harry scanned the rest of the list, looking for any other names he knew. _Florean Fortescue. He used to give me free ice creams. Terrence Higgs. He was the Slytherin seeker back when I was a first year. I guess he didn't become a Death Eater after all._ He did not recognize any other names.

"We should see McGonagall," Harry said suddenly.

"What?" Hermione asked, blinking back tears.

"We should see McGonagall," he repeated. "Ask if there's anything we can do. For the Weasleys, I mean."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Right. They shouldn't be alone. Not now."

-DVDVDV-

"I know what you are thinking, Albus," Gellert said softly. "As ever, you are a fool."

Albus turned his head, surprised to see Gellert sitting alone in the Grimmauld Place library, staring at a luxury chess set which sat on a small table in front of him. Albus had come here to think in silence after paying his respects to the Weasleys at the Burrow. Their grief had been overwhelming. To lose two sons in one terrible evening . . . . Albus had mastered the words to say, had said them too many times over the decades, but it never made it easier. He could not escape the damning guilt that it was his fault that Bill and Percy Weasley had died, that if he had acted sooner, been wiser or more clever, that he could have saved the two young men.

The Weasleys – the surviving Weasleys – did not blame him, and that made it even worse.

Albus was glad, though, that Minerva had granted Harry and Hermione permission to visit them. The Weasleys needed as much support as possible during this most trying of times.

"What am I thinking, Gellert?" Albus asked wearily.

Gellert shrugged. "That it is your fault, of course." Albus nodded. Yes, Gellert _did_ know. "You are right to think it, and yet not for the reasons you believe you are."

"Oh?" Albus asked. "And how is that?"

"You are thinking that you should have arrived at the Ministry sooner, and thereby prevented the death of that young man – Percy? – who worked there. But you did not know until Severus's warning that Death Eaters would attack the Ministry that day, nor did Percy Weasley work in that Department. You left to help as soon as you learned of the threat, yes?" Albus nodded. "And you think now that you should not have sent Bill to Diagon Alley. But Bill was correct to go there. He was a solder in a war, and soldiers die. He saved a man's life, and possibly the life of his paramour, and he earned goodwill by warning the goblins. You were not wrong to send him there."

"Then where was I wrong, Gellert?" Albus asked wearily. To think that he had been so pleased yesterday, so hopeful. But now he had more innocents to summon with the Resurrection Stone, more innocents from whom he needed to beg forgiveness.

"You sent Amelia Bones to Saint Mungo's, although she was not injured. As I understand it, she is a powerful witch, and was an auror before her promotion, yes? Why did you not warn her about Diagon Alley? Her wand would have been more valuable there. But instead, you kept her from her duty. You brought her to the hospital, and waited with her there as the healers treated the injured auror."

"She was a target –" Albus began.

"Yes, of course she was," Gellert interrupted. "And she will be a target tomorrow, and a target the day after that. She is a high ranking soldier in this war. If you remove all your enemies' targets from the fray, there shall be no one left to fight." He gestured to a chessboard on the small table in front of him. "Play a game with me, and I will demonstrate exactly why you are a fool."

Albus sighed, but sat across from Gellert. "White or black?" he asked.

"Oh, I'll take black, of course," Gellert said, chuckling. He tapped his wand over the chess set. A moment later, each of the pieces had transformed. The black king became Voldemort, and Gellert's other pieces became anonymous, masked and robed Death Eaters. The white king became Albus, with Gellert as his queen. Minerva McGonagall and Alastor Moody each were made knights, Amelia Bones and Harry Potter rooks, and Azula Gerov and Rufus Scrimgeour bishops. To Albus's surprise, Severus Snape joined Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Hestia Jones, and Kingsley Shacklebolt in the line of pawns.

Albus frowned, but said nothing as he moved Shacklebolt's pawn two squares forward. They played in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being the cries of the pieces, shouting suggestions at him and speaking to each other. Black's and Snape's pawns snarled insults at one another, while Molly Weasley's fussed over Harry's rook.

Gellert was going to take Scrimgeour's bishop unless Albus stopped him. To do so, though, he would need to sacrifice Arthur Weasley's pawn. His hand trembled, but he moved Arthur to take Gellert's knight.

Molly Weasley's pawn started to sob. Albus's game suffered after that, as he flinched away from making further sacrifices. Within ten minutes, Gellert had won.

"Do you see your great flaw now, Albus?" Gellert asked, tidying up the pieces. "You cannot disassociate yourself from Albus, the kindly man who cares about his people. You need to become Lord Dumbledore, the general who leads his armies to victory. You treat your pawns like they are people." Gellert gestured to the board. "That, I think, is why Severus loathes you so much. He is the only piece on your chessboard that you acknowledge as such. I doubt he would have been quite so furious with you if you treated everyone under your command equally."

Albus nodded slowly. "Why did you make him a pawn?" he asked.

Gellert smiled. "Because he was a pawn. But what happens when a pawn reaches the opposite end of the chessboard? The pawn – the weakest piece – becomes a queen, the most powerful. Severus is the pawn who has become a queen."

Albus sighed. "You know, Gellert, if you were trying to cheer me up, you failed rather terribly."

Gellert shrugged. "So long as you learned from it, I count it a success."

He chuckled. "And here I thought I was the schoolteacher." He paused, and then said, eyes twinkling, "I found it, Gellert. I found where Voldemort hid the Resurrection Stone."

Gellert's eyes widened. "Why are we still in this dank and depressing house then?" he asked.

-DVDVDV-

Three hours later, in a desolate shack outside of the village of Little Hangleton, an old man with a long silver beard screamed in agony as the love of his life amputated his wand hand.

A/N: Please review!


	110. Chapter 110

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 110**

Albus's cracked and graying hand fell to the floor of the Gaunt hovel. Ignoring it for the moment, Gellert examined his former lover's bleeding stump. As he did so, Albus screamed in pain even as both Fawkes and Hellspawn wept over the wound. Streaks of gray spread up his arm.

Gellert cursed softly in German. He tore off the right sleeve of Albus's bright orange robes and drew three fiery runes on the exposed elbow. As they glowed, Gellert took a deep, steadying breath. With a whispered word, he summoned fiendfyre. Carefully, very carefully, he directed it at Albus's arm.

Albus's howl shook the walls as his lower arm melted.

When the fiendfyre met the runes at Albus's elbow, it suddenly stopped. Gellert concentrated. Fiendfyre was difficult to manipulate, even for one such as him. It bucked against him, fighting to consume more. Gellert growled.

Fawkes leapt from Albus's shoulder and flew in circles around the severed hand on the dusty floor. It had turned from gray to a deep black. Fawkes trilled plaintively.

Gellert suddenly understood. The horcrux was still connected to Albus though the severed hand. He forced the fiendfyre to the floor, where it incinerated the hand. Before it could spread to the building, he wrested it fully under his control and banished it. Fawkes trilled again, in appreciation this time, and flew back to his master, who had collapsed to the floor.

Gellert stared for a moment at the lump of twisted rock that had once been the Resurrection Stone, before shifting his gaze to Albus. He murmured a quick diagnostic spell, and then breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"He will recover," he said to Fawkes. "We stopped the curse in time."

Gellert could see the edge of Albus's wand holster through the ripped gap in his robes. Smiling mischievously, he reached over and plucked the Elder Wand out of it. "Hello, old friend," he said to it. "I have missed you." He raised the wand, which sang to him as strongly as he remembered. Turning to the two phoenixes, he said, "Let us return to Grimmauld."

-DVDVDV-

Severus entered the guest bedroom to see Dumbledore lying propped up on the bed, with Fawkes nudging him with his beak. Gellert sat in a chair to the side of the bed, Hellspawn perched on his shoulder. He stared grimly at Dumbledore's unconscious body.

"Severus," he said wearily. "Thank you for coming. Did you bring the potions?"

"I did." Severus reached into his pocket and withdrew three vials, handing them carefully to Gellert. "Will he recover?"

"He should. I managed to halt the spread of the curse in time. Had he been alone . . . ." Gellert shook his head. "I cannot fathom why he felt the need to put the ring on. Turning it thrice, yes, but to wear it?"

Fawkes trilled sadly. Dumbledore's eyes moved, but did not open. Sighing, Gellert spelled the first potion into him.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "New wand?" he asked.

"Old wand," Gellert corrected. "Albus took it from me after our duel in 1945. I simply took it back."

"Congratulations," Severus said drily.

"Thank you. I did rather miss it."

"Hallow," Dumbledore murmured. Fawkes trilled.

"Albus?" Gellert asked. "Are you awake?"

"Do you have it?" Dumbledore asked, not opening his eyes. Severus wondered if he were truly conscious, or simply speaking in his sleep.

"Yes, Albus, I have it," Gellert said soothingly. "Rest now. You'll be better soon."

"Good. Good. Want to . . . see them again."

"You will. Not yet, though. You need to rest first," Gellert said.

"Horcrux . . . gone?" Albus whispered.

"Yes, Albus. It's destroyed. Hush."

Severus raised an eyebrow inquisitively at Hellspawn. _"Fiendfyre apparently destroys horcruxes,"_ he explained. Severus nodded.

"Only five left. Good," Dumbledore murmured.

"Four, Albus, four." Gellert spelled another potion into him.

Without opening his eyes, Dumbledore shook his head. "Five. Cup, Rod, locket, Harry, and something else. Five," he croaked. _Harry? Potter is a horcrux?_ Severus noted Gellert's almost imperceptible flinch and quick glance at Hellspawn. They did not seem surprised.

"You knew," Severus said flatly. "You knew about Potter." _The last remnant of Lily. Lily's son. He needs to die, and they already knew. They lied to me when I asked. Dumbledore knew. Lily's son would have to die for the Dark Lord to be destroyed. Lily died to protect him. He must not die. Lily wanted him to live. Lily._

Despair.

 _What is the point of living? Lily's son must die._

"Severus, we –" Gellert began.

 _"_ _It was my fault,"_ Hellspawn interrupted. _"I didn't want to risk your health –"_

He hated them.

"What else?" he hissed. "What else have you hidden from me?"

 _"_ _Your eyes are red."_

"I do not care," Severus snapped. "Answer me!"

"The ring horcrux. It was the Resurrection Stone," Gellert said softly. "That is all. Severus, I am sorry. We thought –"

 _The Resurrection Stone. The children's story claims it could revive the dead. Lily. I could see Lily again. I could apologize to her._ Severus felt sudden hope surge through his chest, before being ruthlessly crushed. _No. They destroyed the horcrux. They destroyed the Resurrection Stone. They knew I could have used it to summon Lily. They knew, and they hid this from me, too._

"You did not trust me," Severus said softly, interrupting Gellert. "Either of you." He felt the fire of the phoenix bond within him. He imagined it in his mind, and let the icy cold disdain that filled him wash over it. He wanted nothing to do with the treacherous bird. He felt the bond break.

 _"_ _No!"_ Hellspawn cried.

Severus staggered back, coughing up bright scarlet blood. Bonding with the benighted bird had improved his health. It only followed that severing their bond would prove detrimental. He could barely maintain enough energy to stand.

He shivered. Cold. It was so cold. There was no fire anymore.

There would never be fire again.

Gellert said something, and Hellspawn cried. Severus hardened his heart to their pleas. They were no better than everyone else. His life was a wreck of empty promises made by people who should have cared for him. A father who beat him, a mother too weak to defend him, teachers who ignored his suffering, a friend who offered forgiveness to everyone but him, a master who tortured him. Even his bonded phoenix – supposedly the most loyal of creatures – had betrayed him.

He hated them all.

" _Avada kedavra!_ " Severus hissed. The flash of green light hit the phoenix. Hellspawn burst into flame, emerging as a tiny chick from the ashes. Severus immediately summoned several balls and flung them at the phoenix, covering him with exploded rubber.

Turning savagely, he staggered out of the room. He coughed painfully as he made his way down the hall. Dimly, he heard Gellert say sadly, "Give him space. He needs time to think. We should never have kept this from him."

 _No, you should not have._

He barely managed to apparate to the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds without splinching himself. After a few fumbling attempts, he was able to swallow a vial of Prince's Kiss. It barely helped. He would not be able to walk across the grounds all the way to his dungeon quarters. Mustering the ragged remnants of his strength, he murmured, " _Volare corde vespertilionis_."

His body was weak. His mind and his will and his magic were not.

He flew.

The handful of students who were not in classes stared at him as he covered the distance to the entry hall faster than most broomsticks could fly. They stared as he continued his flight through the hallways. He knew that, with his billowing black robes and blood dripping from his mouth, he had doubtless revived the ever-popular rumors that he was a vampire. He did not care.

His energy left him entirely midway through his sitting room. He fell on a pile of books next to his desk, and the stack collapsed under his weight. He groaned and coughed. Blood splattered a hundred-year-old text on healing potions.

He did not want to die, but he was so tired of fighting. He was just so tired of everything.

He gave up.

Severus lowered his occlumency shields.

A/N: Please review!


	111. Chapter 111

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 111**

When Minerva first heard the ridiculous, mean-spirited rumor, she took five points from Ravenclaw. The second time, she removed five from Gryffindor. The third time, she overheard two sixth-year Slytherins reporting the story to a gaggle of third years, and she realized that the rumor might not be quite so ridiculous or mean-spirited after all.

 _What could possibly have caused Severus to fly across the school in broad daylight, where anyone could see him? Why risk it?_

 _His mouth was dripping blood. He must have had another Enobarbus attack._

Lips pursing in concern, Minerva walked down to the dungeons to check in on Snape. She knocked on his office door, but there was no answer. She tried opening it, but was unsurprised to see that it was locked. She sent her tabby patronus to him and waited.

Five minutes passed.

After ten minutes, Minerva decided that she could no longer justify waiting. She might have waited too long already. Severus could be lying in a pool of his own blood even as she delayed.

He could already be dead.

It took Minerva four minutes to undo the wards around Snape's office. Despite herself, she was impressed that he had evidently had the wherewithal to raise them despite . . . well, whatever it was that had happened.

There were small patches of blood on the floor between the door and the bookshelf that led to his quarters.

She sent another patronus to him, but did not wait to see if he would respond. Striding briskly over, she tried to disable the wards around the door to his quarters.

An invisible force slammed her against the opposite wall.

Staggering to her feet, Minerva idly noted that the wards around Snape's personal quarters were far more potent than the ones protecting his office. She would need to find another way inside.

"Tippy!" she called, and a Hogwarts house elf appeared, clad in a crisp white tea towel.

"What is Tippy doing for Mistress Headmistress?" the house elf asked, bowing low in front of her.

"Can you enter Master Snape's rooms? If he is injured, could you bring him to the infirmary?"

Tippy swayed, and then began beating his head repeatedly against the floor. "Bad Tippy! Bad Tippy!" he cried.

"Stop!" Minerva ordered. "Do not punish yourself. Simply answer my question."

"Tippy cannot!" the house elf wailed. "Tippy is a bad elf, disappointing good Mistress Headmistress!"

"Shhh, Tippy. It's alright." He gazed at her adoringly, hiccupping through his tears. "Why can't you enter?"

"Master Potions Master is forbidding all elves to enter his rooms, he is. He is being most clear on it, even if we is just wanting to help him. He is not liking house elves. He is putting up wards against us, so we cannot be entering. He is saying he likes it to be messy and horrible, and does not wants us spying on him." Tippy tried hitting his head again, but Minerva caught him. "Bad Tippy! Tippy should not complain about masters."

Minerva sighed. _That explains why there were no portraits in his rooms, either._ "Thank you, Tippy. You have been very helpful. You may go." The house elf disappeared with a loud _crack_.

Leaving the dungeons, she nearly walked through the Bloody Baron. That gave her another idea. "Excuse me," she said to him. "Are you able to enter Master Snape's quarters?"

"Why do you ask?" the Baron rasped in his deep, eerie voice.

"I fear he might be injured, but am unable to enter to assist him."

"I will see," the Baron promised. He drifted through a wall. Minerva waited. A few minutes later, he returned. "The Head of House Slytherin does not wish to be disturbed," he informed her.

A flood of relief hit her. "But he is well?" she asked.

"The Head of House Slytherin does not wish to be disturbed," the Baron repeated. Before she could question him further, he drifted through a stone wall and out of her sight.

-DVDVDV-

Severus looked down at the cauldron. He had ignored Minerva's attempts to contact him through her patronus, had dismissed the Bloody Baron's inquiries with orders not to disturb him again. This was the moment that would decide the rest of his life. It would determine if he _had_ a rest of his life. The Rod of Paracelsus promised him that he did. He believed it. It was part of him. He had been a fool to deny it for so long.

Retrieving the Rod from the box in his desk had been remarkably simple. He had vanished the key to the drawer, but demolishing his desk had required only a _reducto_. Night after day after night of obsessing over the Rod and its protections allowed him to find the flaws in Gellert's design. Runic master he might be, but he had only had an hour to work on the box. Nurmengard it was not.

The Rod felt so _right_ in his hand. It buoyed his flagging body as he stared down at the simmering potion. The color was wrong. The smell was wrong. The consistency was wrong.

Severus drank it.

He fell to the floor as shock rippled through him.

The constant ache was gone. He could not recall the last time he had felt like this, could not remember a time when it did not hurt to take just one more breath.

He thought of Lily Evans, and for the first time in nearly two decades, he felt no pain. With sudden clarity, he realized that she had been unworthy of his obsession. She had been a vain, shallow creature. A talented witch, but no more so than Minerva McGonagall or Bellatrix Lestrange. A beautiful woman, but for Severus that had always been the least of her charms. Her kindness, he now realized, had been pity for an ill-kept, friendless boy. She was a social climber, and ultimately had no use for a poor, unpopular boy who was utterly devoted to her.

He had been a fool to love her. He had been a fool to love anyone at all. Fortunately, the Dark Lord had cured him of his weakness.

The Dark Lord. A being worthy of Severus's fullest, most sincere loyalty. _Why had I faltered in my faith? The Dark Lord provided for his servants. He saw the unworthiness of Lily Evans and killed her, as was his right. When her death poisoned my pathetic body, he purified me. I should never have strayed from his side._

His supposed friends and allies did not trust his judgment enough to share their uncomfortable truths. The Dark Lord trusted him enough to safeguard his own immortality. He judged them by their actions and the effects of their actions. He knew, now, where his loyalties lay, where they should always have lain. Safe in his hand, the Rod of Paracelsus resonated its agreement.

 ** _"You understand now?"_** Severus could hear the parseltongue words in his mind, despite his restored occlumency shields.

 **"Yes,"** he hissed back.

Old men and phoenixes had hidden cruel truths to prolong a life filled with pain and suffering.

The Dark Lord had tortured him to hasten his acceptance of the one artifact that could save him.

Sometimes, you must be cruel in order to be kind.

A good master takes care of his pet.

A/N: Please review!


	112. Chapter 112

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 112**

Albus fell back asleep shortly after Severus left the sickroom. Gellert cursed the unfortunate timing. _If only he had done so a few minutes earlier. If only he had said nothing._ Severus had looked deathly ill, and Gellert already regretted his decision to let him go. _But it is his life, his choice. He is upset with me, with Hellspawn, and I cannot blame him._

 _"_ _He broke the bond,"_ Hellspawn said, sounding small and lost. He did not even attempt to escape the sticky rubber covering him. _"He broke it."_

"What does that mean?" Gellert asked softly, careful not to reawaken Albus.

 _"_ _He'll die. He'll die very soon. He was already so sick. It took the bond to keep him this healthy. He'll die, and it's my fault. I should never have tried to hide information from him."_

"How long does he have?"

 _"_ _I don't know! Not long. Weeks, maybe? A month? He broke the bond. He broke it."_

Gellert sighed. Nothing in his long life gave him any idea of how to comfort a distraught phoenix. He turned to Fawkes, who watched them beadily from Albus's side. "I do not suppose that you would care to assist?" he asked. Fawkes trilled something. Hellspawn did not react. _Well, that certainly answers that._ "Hellspawn, how many can see you now?"

 _"_ _Everyone. Phoenixes are supposed to comfort the loved ones after their bonded witch or wizard dies, so we can still be seen and heard for a few days after a bond breaks. It wasn't supposed to be this soon, though. Or like this."_

"Perhaps he will reconsider. Give him time to reflect, and he may yet forgive you," Gellert suggested.

Hellspawn wept.

Several hours later, Albus awoke again, mostly restored to himself. He looked around the room. "Gellert?" he asked. "What has happened?"

"Several disasters," Gellert replied drily. "You put a cursed ring on your hand, forcing me to amputate your arm and destroy the Resurrection Stone. While recovering, you then informed Severus that Mister Potter is a horcrux, which Hellspawn and I had rather assiduously avoided telling him. He is now in parts unknown, dying painfully." Albus winced. "In the positive column, we now know that fiendfyre can destroy horcruxes. Of course, Severus's shipment of basilisk venom was only a week away, so this knowledge is less vitally essential than it otherwise might have been."

"Ah," Albus said.

"Indeed."

Albus reached into his robes with his right stump. He stared at it for a moment, and then switched to his left hand. Upon confirming that his wand holster was indeed empty, he looked back at Gellert. "My wand?" he asked.

"I have recovered my stolen property, yes," Gellert said easily.

"You stole it yourself," Albus reminded him, blue eyes hardening.

Gellert waved a dismissive hand. "Details," he said. "Doubtless, you kept your previous wand."

Albus frowned. "I was hoping to repair some of the damage," he said, raising his stump. _And you already miss the increase in power that the Elder Wand afforded you. But, to my chagrin, you were more powerful a wizard than I even when I wielded the wand. This merely evens the odds between us somewhat._

"Certainly. Silver, or some other material?" Gellert asked.

Albus sighed, accepting the loss for now. Gellert wondered how long that would last. "Silver, please." Gellert waved the Elder Wand, and a shining silver hand grafted itself to Albus's stump. He flexed his fingers, and then nodded, eyes twinkling. "Thank you, my friend. And now I suppose I must find where I placed my original wand. No doubt it will require a search of several old boxes. Care to accompany me on a trip to the past?"

After nearly an hour of sorting through boxes filled with ancient mementos – Gellert could not fathom why Albus bothered to keep every gift every student had ever given him over the course of decades – a brilliant silver thestral patronus appeared in the room. It opened its mouth, and spoke with Severus's voice. "Hellspawn, I know you can still find me. Come alone. We need to talk." It vanished.

 _His patronus has changed,_ Gellert marveled.

Hellspawn looked at Gellert, the despair that had suffused the phoenix's posture since Severus broke the bond lightening, replaced by sudden hope. _"He's willing to talk to me. He might forgive me. He might take me back,"_ he said happily. With a flash of flame, the tiny phoenix chick vanished.

"Severus's patronus is no longer a doe," Albus observed. "I take it you understand what that signifies?"

Gellert grinned. "He's cured. Severus has finally found a cure." Albus nodded, smiling. Gellert noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes, and waved a chastising finger at him. "He can cast a patronus, Albus. He may be a dark wizard, but _dark_ is not necessarily the same as _evil_."

Albus did not respond, but Gellert could guess that the form of Severus's patronus did not encourage him. Educated wizards knew that thestrals were not truly evil, or even dark, but their relationship with death _symbolically_ associated them with evil. And patronuses were highly symbolic constructs.

When Hellspawn did not return after an hour, Gellert began to hope that he and Severus had settled their differences. When another hour passed without any word from the phoenix, though, Gellert grew concerned. _Why hasn't Hellspawn returned? Was Severus willing to forgive only him, and not me?_

Albus finally found his old spruce and phoenix feather wand at the bottom of a box of old chocolate frog cards. He conjured a swarm of butterflies, and laughed as they landed on Gellert's head and shoulders. "Shall we return to Grimmauld Place?" he asked. "I believe that Remus was expected to be let out of Saint Mungo's today, and while I am not in Molly's league, I feel he deserves a good meal after his troubles." His smile faded as he mentioned the Weasley matriarch's name. She would doubtless still be at the Burrow, mourning the loss of her sons.

Gellert agreed, and they apparated to Order headquarters. Upon entering, Albus called out, "Sirius? Remus?"

No one answered.

" _Hominum revelio_ ," Gellert murmured. He frowned. "Albus, we are the only two people here."

Albus turned sharply to look at him. "But Sirius's collar?"

Gellert shook his head. "He could not have removed it. Of that, I am certain."

Albus nodded grimly. Sirius Black was almost certainly dead. Barring some accident, the Order had been betrayed. Slowly and quietly, they made their way through each room, wands drawn. Finally, upon reaching the attic, they found what was left of Black.

The doorbell rang. "That must be Remus," Albus said sadly. "I should go and see to him."

They went back downstairs, Gellert closing the door to block the gruesome sight. Albus opened the front door to reveal Remus Lupin and Hestia Jones. Their smiles fell as they saw Albus and Gellert's faces.

"What's happened?" Jones asked.

"Come inside," Albus said. "I think you'll want to sit down." He led them to the kitchen, and then retrieved a bottle of firewhiskey and four glasses from a cupboard. He poured some into each glass, and handed them out to the others, gesturing for them to sit. They did.

"What's happened?" Jones asked again, gripping her glass tightly.

"I regret to inform you that Sirius Black is dead," Albus said softly, looking at Lupin.

"Dead?" Lupin whispered, gripping his wooden cane tightly. He stared blindly at Albus. "How could he be dead?"

Albus hesitated, so Gellert answered. "He appears to have been savaged by a hippogriff in the attic."

"Buckbeak?" Lupin asked incredulously. "But he loved Sirius!"

Albus sighed. "Remus, Sirius was often . . . well, he did not take his confinement here well. There was a bottle next to him in the room."

"You think he got drunk and insulted Buckbeak?" Jones asked. Albus nodded.

"Oh, Padfoot. Why?" Lupin moaned.

Jones looked at him, frowning. Gellert knew that she, like many in the Order, had issues with Black's behavior. Lupin, however, was popular. Apparently making a decision, she raised her glass and toasted, "To Sirius Black." She drank. The others raised their glasses and drank.

Gellert choked and dropped his glass. From the corner of his eye, he saw the others do the same.

The firewhiskey had been poisoned.

-DVDVDV-

Hidden in Kreacher's nest of treasures by house elf magic, Hellspawn screamed and screamed, self-immolating again and again in a futile attempt to cleanse himself.

A/N: Please review!


	113. Chapter 113

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **A/N:** Severus is under the influence of both the contaminated Prince's Kiss and the Rod of Paracelsus. He is therefore not entirely himself. Please keep that in mind when judging his actions.

 **Chapter 113**

 ** _Several hours earlier…_**

Severus's disillusioned feet did not make a sound as he quietly entered Grimmauld Place. A silencing spell on the door prevented anyone from hearing it open. He listened for the sounds of voices, but heard none. The Order must still be at the Burrow, paying their respects to the Weasleys.

He cast a nonverbal _hominum revelio_. There was only one other person in the building, stashed away in the attic like so much rubbish. Grindelwald and Dumbledore must have left while he was brewing. He smirked. _So much the easier for me, then._

Entering the kitchen, Severus poured a few drops of one of his favorite tasteless, odorless poisons onto each ingredient and into each bottle. That done, he climbed the stairs to the attic, watching silently as Black threw a ferret at the great hippogriff. _Perfect._

 _"_ _You know what you must do,"_ the Rod of Paracelsus murmured in his mind. _"We are so close to true merging. Only this, and a little time."_

" _Imperio_ ," Severus whispered, too quietly for Black to hear over the sounds of the hippogriff's chewing.

At his mental command, Buckbeak's great taloned claws raked into Black's throat. Great spurts of blood erupted from his neck, and Buckbeak sank his beak into it, tearing out chunks of flesh. The hippogriff savaged Black's chest, ripping it into shreds.

And thus did Sirius Black die.

Severus felt the damage to his soul. The Rod of Paracelsus guided him, showing him how to pull the tear, to widen it, to prevent it from healing. He followed its instructions carefully, knowing that he needed to do this perfectly. It was too dangerous for them to merge fully before Severus secured the proper safeguards. The Rod had warned him that their connection was still unstable. Even with the added protections, it would still take at least a week for them to fuse fully.

Severus left the room. He had a day to find a suitable vessel, a day before the damage would be too far removed to use.

He already knew what vessel he would choose.

Harry Potter proved that a horcrux could be made from a living vessel.

He thought of the day he received his Hogwarts letter and summoned his patronus. Instead of the familiar doe, a silvery thestral erupted from his wand. _This is what my patronus always should have been. This is the mirror of my soul._ "Tell Hellspawn that I know he can still find me. Tell him to come to me, alone. We need to talk." The thestral bowed its head, and then it vanished.

A minute later, a tiny phoenix chick appeared in the room.

 _"_ _Severus, you've –"_ Hellspawn began.

And then the phoenix began to scream.

-DVDVDV-

The Rod of Paracelsus showed Severus where to go. He left Grimmauld Place and disapparated to the large ballroom where Voldemort sat upon his marble throne. Two Death Eaters knelt at his feet. Severus bowed, but did not kneel.

"Leave usss," Voldemort hissed. The Death Eaters scrambled to their feet and then vanished. "Welcome, Severusss. You appear much improved since only yesterday."

"I am cured, my Lord," Severus replied. He bowed again. "I thank you for your priceless gift."

"You understand why I have given it to you?" Voldemort asked.

"Indeed, my Lord. 'All great men have their great implement. King Arthur had Excalibur. Ravenclaw had her Diadem. Dumbledore has the Elder Wand. You have me,'" Severus repeated the words that the Rod of Paracelsus had said to him back in August. Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the mention of the Diadem. _The final horcrux_ , Severus realized. _And an artifact worthy of his greatness._ Severus felt an answering pulse of agreement coming from the Rod, as well a sense of smugness at how well the Diadem was hidden, safe in the room at Hogwarts that only Voldemort could be clever enough to find.

Voldemort smiled, rising from his throne and approaching Severus. "Yesss, my pet. Yesss. You understand. You are at last truly worthy." He stroked one long, pale finger against Severus's cheek. Safe in his pocket, the Rod of Paracelsus pulsed in harmony.

"I bear other tidings as well." Severus smiled. "My Lord, Potter is one of your horcruxes." _And thus my promise to the corpse of Lily Potter is fulfilled. Her brat will live, and I owe the faithless friend nothing more. Were it not for the sake of my master, I would not have given her even that._ The Rod hummed its agreement.

"What?" Voldemort spat.

"I suspected it, based on the boy's fluency in parseltongue, and I overheard Dumbledore today, when he confirmed it."

Voldemort searched Severus's eyes, which he knew were now a vibrant red nearly identical to his master's own. "You have done well, my pet. Very well indeed. I shall inform my Death Eaterssss. Harry Potter shall be protected. He is not the true threat. I see that now. He is but a distraction. It is Mordred we must destroy."

Severus raised an eyebrow, surprised that his master, in his infinite wisdom, had not already recognized the truth. He felt ashamed. It was his fault, his treachery, that his master did not know. Head bowed in shame, he said, "My Lord, I regretfully admit that I was Mordred. Like a foolish child, I stood against you. I accept whatever punishment you deem fit for my crimes."

Voldemort staggered back. Severus caught the pain of betrayal in his master's eyes, and hung his head lower. He was no better than the ones he loathed. He had betrayed the man who had saved him, had lied to him time and time again. He was no better than Dumbledore, or Grindelwald, or Hellspawn. Just as they deserved to suffer for how they had treated him, he deserved to suffer for how he had treated Voldemort.

"No!" Voldemort cried. Furious, he raised his wand to curse Severus. " _Avada ked-_ "

As soon as he heard the first syllable of the killing curse, Severus knew that he could dodge, perhaps even apparate to safety. He did not move. He was his master's tool, to use or discard as he saw fit. He deserved his punishment.

The Rod of Paracelsus saved him once again. **_"Stop!"_** it cried from where it lay, safe in his pocket.

And Voldemort listened. **"Explain,"** he hissed in parseltongue.

 ** _"_** ** _He is loyal now. Truly loyal. He is ours, and none else's. He played us for fools, yes, but we triumphed in the end. He has returned to us now, and his faith is all the stronger for it."_** The Rod laughed. **_"He has made his own horcrux, and once he and I fully merge, our immortality shall be secured."_**

Voldemort laughed, high and cold. He lowered his wand, and Severus knew that his master would spare him, unworthy though he was.

 **"** **Tell me everything you know,"** Voldemort ordered.

And Severus did.

A/N:

As several people have asked about the Malfoys, Severus cannot betray their location to Voldemort. Severus (as Mordred) helped cast the fidelius charm on Malfoy Manor (after bringing Draco from Hogwarts), but he is not the secret keeper. Lucius and Narcissa are too intelligent to share the secret with the incredibly dangerous new lord who showed up out of nowhere, even if he is being helpful and claims to be working with their good friend Snape. Once bitten, twice shy after all.

Please review!


	114. Chapter 114

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 114**

 _ **Several hours earlier…**_

McGonagall, teary-eyed, had immediately granted Harry and Hermione permission to pay their respects to the Weasley family. She led them to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and took them to the Burrow via side-along apparition. Harry had barely recovered from the uncomfortable squeezing sensation before McGonagall knocked on the Weasleys' front door. A moment later, an unusually solemn Albus Dumbledore opened it.

"Ah, Minerva," he said. "I did not expect to see you here. And with Mister Potter and Miss Granger as well."

"We wanted to be there for Ron and his family," Hermione said softly.

"A worthwhile sentiment, and one that serves you well. I am certain that the Weasleys will appreciate it," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "Please, come inside." He stood aside to let them in.

The Weasleys sat around the kitchen table. Molly kept repeating "my babies, my babies" to Arthur, who stared forlornly at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Bill and Percy's hands both pointed to "Lost." Fred gripped George's shoulder, his eyes shut tight. Ginny sobbed quietly, with Charlie gently patting her back. Ron was hugging his chest, and did not look up as they entered.

Harry felt awkward. Now that he was here, he did not know what to say. Hermione glanced at him, apparently feeling the same uncertainty. She grimaced, and then straightened her shoulders and walked up to Ron, enveloping him in a hug. "Oh, Ron, I am so, so sorry," she said. Ron stared up at her, looking utterly lost. Hermione glanced at Harry, as if asking for help. He gulped, and then walked over and joined them in the hug.

-DVDVDV-

Kreacher was delighted. He had found the beggar Prince alone only minutes after his disgrace of a master had been killed by his monstrous pet. _Serves the filthy blood traitor right. Shame of my mistress's heart._ The beggar Prince had been so very willing to help Kreacher keep his promise to Master Regulus. Kreacher was happy to give him Master Regulus's locket. The beggar Prince even promised to deal with it that very day! Kreacher always knew that he was a good wizard, not like the mudblood lovers who came to his mistress's house these days. He would need to tell his mistress that her horrible son was dead. But then he remembered that the terrible visitors had removed her portrait. Oh, how Kreacher hated them.

But the beggar Prince was asking Kreacher for something. He pointed at the small phoenix chick, which was being set on fire over and over again. Kreacher did not like those flames. And now the beggar Prince wanted Kreacher to hide the phoenix where no one else could find it until the Prince came for it again. It was a great responsibility, but the Prince knew how Kreacher was such a good and loyal house elf, and could he help Master Regulus's friend? Well, of course Kreacher could, and he said so.

Kreacher was proud to help such a good friend of Master Regulus, even if his eyes were red when they should be black. Kreacher wondered if he had traded his eyes with the phoenix's fire. Flames were not supposed to burn black, were they?

-DVDVDV-

Even as he fell, Gellert's hand dug into his pocket for the bezoar he always carried on him. He had survived dozens of poisoning attempts in his life, and he mentally cursed himself for failing to check if the firewhiskey had been contaminated. He should have known better. Nurmengard had made him careless. He could only imagine how Severus would mock him for his lapse, assuming the potions master ever forgave him for his recently uncovered deceit.

Gellert finally found the bezoar and managed to force it down his throat.

Nothing happened.

 _Some poisons cannot be cured by a bezoar,_ Gellert remembered.

Fawkes wept, tears falling into Albus's mouth. He coughed, and a healthy color returned to his face. Gellert saw him point to the others with a silver finger, and then everything went black.

When Gellert awoke, he gasped with relief as he felt the air return to his lungs. Fawkes stared into his eyes, and then trilled softly.

"I was beginning to worry," Albus said. "You would not wake." He paused, and then added somberly, "Hestia and Remus did not survive. Fawkes tried, but . . . ." He sighed. "He was too late to save them."

Gellert nodded. "My condolences, Albus. I know that they were your friends." He paused. "Do you know who poisoned the firewhiskey?" he asked.

Albus's blue eyes hardened. "Severus Snape."

Gellert laughed mirthlessly. "Try again, Albus. Severus is many things, but a poor planner is not one of them. The poisoner could not have hoped for all of the Order to be killed by this. As a potions master, Severus would naturally be the first suspect when the survivors looked for culpability. If anything, the culprit is likely someone seeking to frame him."

Albus frowned, but then nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. "In that case, I do not know. I checked the other stores in the kitchen, and all of the food and drink were contaminated." He sighed. "I am glad you have recovered, Gellert. Seeing you again, after so many years, has made me all the more reluctant to lose you once more."

Gellert smiled. "I have missed you, too, Albus." He noticed the slight scorch marks on Albus's silver hand. "I take it you tried to pick my pocket?" he asked, eyes twinkling merrily.

Albus chuckled ruefully. "I underestimated the wards you placed on your wand holster," he admitted, and Gellert laughed. The doorbell rang, and Albus stood. "That will likely be Minerva. I asked her to bring Harry here from the Burrow." He sighed. "I have broken ill tiding to too many families lately."

A/N: Please review!


	115. Chapter 115

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 115**

Harry sat numbly next to Hermione, who awkwardly patted his back. McGonagall had offered to go upstairs to retrieve Sirius's body, leaving them with Dumbledore and Grindelwald. "How – how did he die? I thought he was supposed to be safe here? And how could – how could Professor Lupin be dead, too? It was just his leg, I thought, and he was supposed to be mostly recovered . . . he sent me a letter . . . ."

Dumbledore sighed, looking very old and worn. Harry noticed through his haze that he sported a silver hand now, just like Wormtail did. _When did that happen?_ He had had two normal hands this morning. "It appears to have been an accident involving Buckbeak," he said. He glanced at Grindelwald. "However, recent evidence suggests that someone else may have been involved."

"What evidence?" Harry asked dully. He thought about using occlumency. _It was supposed to help deal with emotions, wasn't it?_ But he felt so tired. First Bill and Percy, and now Sirius and Remus. He had been so upset with Sirius the last time he had seen him, so disappointed that his godfather was not the perfect, heroic figure he had built up in his imagination. And now Sirius was dead. And Remus, who had been such a fantastic teacher, who had been so gentle and understanding, who had been his parents' friend, too.

"Harry, my boy –" Dumbledore began.

"What evidence?" Harry asked again, interrupting him.

"Poison, Mister Potter," Grindelwald said. "All of the consumables in this house were found poisoned. Poison, however, did not kill Mister Black."

"Snape," Harry spat. "Snape did it. He's a potions master. He hated Sirius. It must have been Snape."

"Harry –" Hermione began.

"No, Hermione!" he shouted, pulling away from her. "I'm tired of everyone always making excuses for him. You don't know who he really is, what he can be like! That auror –" Harry continued speaking, but he could not hear his voice. He scowled at Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

"You will be silent, Mister Potter, or I will make you be silent," Grindelwald said coldly. "And thank you for so aptly proving that you cannot be trusted with any sensitive information."

"Gellert, he is grieving," Dumbledore said softly.

"So?" Grindelwald snapped back. "If he discloses vital war details simply because someone he cares about has died, he cannot be trusted with such information. Have you already forgotten our chess game earlier? This is a war. By definition, people _will_ die in it. These casualties will not always be strangers or mere casual acquaintances.

"As for your accusations against Severus, Albus and I have already discussed – and dismissed – the likelihood of his involvement. I remind you, Mister Potter, that in the first war, it was your father's close friend Peter Pettigrew who betrayed the Order of the Phoenix to Tom Riddle, _not_ Severus Snape, the spy hated by the men and women on the very side he was risking his life to support."

Harry glared, but then nodded sullenly. With a wave, Grindelwald removed the silencing spell. "Good. Now that this has been settled, I recommend vacating the premises. Given recent events, it is entirely possible that other traps were placed in the building, and I, for one, have no wish to spring any others today."

-DVDVDV-

Severus listened, silent and disillusioned, outside the door to the library. His plan had caught fewer Order members than he had hoped, and he berated himself for not factoring in that the Weasley clan would still be away, mourning the deaths of two of their own. _At least the wolf is dead_ , he thought. _And it seems the fools do not even seriously suspect me. They should have considered the possibility of a double bluff._ He remembered the muggle story of the "boy who cried wolf," and saw that it was playing out with him now. He had been falsely accused so many times that when he actually was to blame, no one truly suspected him.

Severus considered entering the library and carrying Potter to safety, but decided against it. Dumbledore and Grindelwald might ask questions, and he could not risk them discovering his renewed allegiance to his master. Besides, neither appeared to have immediate plans to kill the boy, so recovering the unexpected horcrux could wait for now. He could strike once Potter returned to school. _At least my Lord now has the locket restored to him. It and the Rod shall keep his precious life safe while I act to bring the others to his awaiting arms._

He turned and headed to Kreacher's nest. Looking down at the pile of house elf treasures, he smiled coldly at the sight of his horcrux.

"Hello, Hellspawn," he whispered.

The phoenix screamed wordlessly, or perhaps Severus simply no longer retained the capacity to understand his words. Severus merely chuckled. "You should not have hidden things from me. You understand that now, I hope? I confess, I am surprised to see you still alive, given your near-fatal reaction to breaking the Rod of Paracelsus's hold on me over the summer. But perhaps you still feel obliged to me?" He reached down to take the phoenix, ignoring the black flames erupting around his tiny form. "My master wishes to see you. You shall be safe in his care, I assure you." As he spoke, he carefully sent out a mild legilimency probe, ignoring the phoenix's mind and instead seeking the half of his soul within. After a moment, he felt an answering pulse, strong and reassuring. He smiled.

-DVDVDV-

Nestled within the protective warmth of the phoenix, the fractured half of Severus Snape's soul screamed. Freed from the effects of the contaminated Prince's Kiss and the Rod of Paracelsus's twisted promises, he saw the wreck he had made of his life. His other self was a deluded fool, a follower so desperate for acceptance that he ignored his abuser's crimes.

The legilimency probe hit him, and Severus instinctively occluded. He showed what his other self wanted to see, projecting acceptance of their decision to create a horcrux and fervent loyalty to the Dark Lord, who had saved them despite their worthlessness. Fortunately, he had always been a better occlumens than legilimens, and he doubted his counterpart could sense the deception.

 _He will destroy all that I have worked towards. He needs to be stopped. Killed, if necessary,_ he thought.

Severus wondered if all horcruxes sought to kill their counterparts. Potter certainly seemed intent on killing Voldemort, but then, he had his own mind – poor though it was – so perhaps he was an exception. And Severus had a long history of self-loathing. Suicide attempts were nothing new to him. Without Hellspawn's interference, he would have died long ago.

The phoenix was still screaming in unrelenting agony. _That is my fault_ , Severus realized. _My presence is causing his pain._

 _I would apologize, but I cannot leave._ He reached out to the phoenix's mind, trying to convey his remorse. _A pity I must regret the murder itself, not the creation of the horcrux, in order to undo that which I have wrought. Even now, despite the consequences, I cannot feel remorse for Black's death._ He felt Hellspawn flinch, and he tried to soothe the phoenix.

 _"_ _We need to work together to stop him,"_ Severus said. _"Can you bond with one such as I? It might help heal you, as your bond healed me once?"_

There was no response. With a mental shrug, Severus decided to keep trying. They would be trapped together for some time, and the sooner they made peace, the sooner they could escape the prison of his making.

A/N:

To clarify the thestral patronus from an earlier chapter, you can read it as either:

1) Severus's spirit animal is a misunderstood, intelligent, and highly useful creature mislabeled as dark because of its unfortunate relationship with death. It is also a magical creature, like Dumbledore's phoenix and Grindelwald's kitsune, and thus indicates lord-level power.

or

2) It is a reflection of his current loyalties. It is a play on Voldemort's name as "flight of death," as a thestral is a winged horse only visible to those who have seen death. It represents Severus only to the extent that the doe did.

Feel free to debate which is the correct interpretation.

Please review!


	116. Chapter 116

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 116**

With a heavy heart, Harry and Hermione returned to Hogwarts that evening. Harry still felt numb from the dual losses of Sirius and Remus. For all that his reverence for his godfather had collapsed recently, he still mourned the man's death. And Remus had been nothing but good to him.

Harry poked listlessly at the food on his plate, not noticing Hedwig's presence until she bit him sharply on the finger. Wincing, he retrieved the letter she carried with an apologetic, "Sorry, Hedwig." Written on the envelope was simply, "Open alone. Parseltongue – the name of my phoenix." He made his excuses to Hermione and left the Great Hall, searching for an empty classroom. Finding one, he closed the door and hissed, **"Hellspawn."** The words on the parchment shifted.

 _"Potter,_

 _"Meet me in my office as soon as possible. Tell no one. Your life is at risk. Wear your cloak._

 _"Severus Snape"_

For a moment, Harry debated whether or not to believe the note. Regardless of what Dumbledore and Grindelwald said, he still could not shake his suspicion that Snape had been involved in Sirius and Remus's deaths. _That's stupid, though. He wouldn't have killed all those Death Eaters at the Ministry if he's not on our side._

 _Should I warn Hermione or McGonagall? What if it's another trap, like the Ministry? What if Death Eaters come for them while looking for me?_

Harry frowned, considering. _Maybe a Death Eater is disguised as someone else, like Moody was last year, and Snape doesn't know who it is. I wish I had my Map! Now that I know who's actually teaching me occlumency, McGonagall might let me have it back._

Making his decision, Harry ran up to Gryffindor tower and grabbed his invisibility cloak from his trunk. _I should start carrying this with me all the time. It would have come in handy at the Ministry._ He threw it on, and then made his way back downstairs to the dungeons, being careful not to jostle anyone as he passed students in the corridors.

Snape's door was ajar, and Harry softly pushed it open. Snape stood on the far end of the room, his back turned to the open door.

"Potter?" he asked. He voice sounded odd, colder than usual and yet somehow less vicious.

"Yes," Harry replied, taking off the cloak.

Snape turned, and Harry gasped. He looked healthy, far healthier than Harry had ever seen him. He was still all hard lines and angles, and was no doubt just as painfully thin as Harry remembered. But his skin seemed less waxy, less sallow. He seemed lees drawn.

His eyes glowed a brilliant, murderous red. They seemed even brighter than they had been after the fight in the Ministry.

With a wave of Snape's hand, the door to the office closed.

"Sit," Snape ordered. Hesitantly, Harry obeyed. "There is a threat to your life in the Order of the Phoenix," he said without preamble. "I do not expect you to believe me as to who is targeting you, but there is a faction that believes that a ritual sacrifice is necessary to defeat the Dark Lord. They believe that the death of the so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived' would provide the most potent effect. This is, of course, nonsense, but they are not to be dissuaded. I am to bring you to a safe location, where you shall remain while we work on convincing this faction of their folly."

 _What? A ritual sacrifice? Like what Voldemort did in that graveyard?_ Harry gulped. "And they're wrong?" he asked hopefully. Belatedly, he added, "Sir?"

Snape gave a miniscule shrug. "Perhaps. It is difficult to say with certainty. Your death might indeed fuel a ritual to weaken the Dark Lord, but it is absurd to suppose that it alone would be sufficient to decide the war."

Harry bit his lip. "Is that why – why Sirius and Professor Lupin were killed?" _They wouldn't have agreed to a ritual that would require me to die, no matter what anyone else said about needing it to stop Voldemort._

Snape inclined his head slightly. "There is at least one traitor within the Order. And now, are you willing to come with me?"

Harry hesitated. "Can I tell McGonagall first?"

" _Professor_ McGonagall," Snape corrected, seemingly automatically. "And no. Although I highly doubt her involvement, I refuse to risk it." Harry frowned, doubting that the potions master actually cared that much about him. As if sensing his thoughts, Snape snapped, "I swore to your mother's corpse that I would protect her son. I may loathe you, Potter, but I have never sought your death."

 _Well, that was true_ , Harry had to admit, looking into Snape's disconcerting eyes, which were still a virulent red. _Snape's saved me often enough over the years. And he_ is _in love with my mum._ "Okay, sir," he agreed, but without enthusiasm. "What do I need to do?"

Snape handed him a small pebble. "This is a one-way portkey. To activate it, simply speak your aunt's name."

Harry frowned. "Petunia," he said. There was a tug on his navel, and he felt like he was being pulled a great distance. He blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, he found himself sprawled on the carpeted floor of a well-appointed bedroom. A large, comfortable-looking bed lay in one corner, and a bookcase filled with forty or fifty books stood across from it. There was a small writing desk, two chairs, and two closed doors. Harry picked himself up from the floor and opened the nearest door to reveal a large, well-lit bathroom. Through the other was door was a mid-sized, fully-stocked kitchen.

 _They obviously expect me to be stuck here for a while,_ Harry thought. He sighed, not particularly caring. Sirius was dead. Remus was dead. Bill and Percy Weasley were dead. Cedric was dead.

It was all too much. Harry collapsed onto the bed and wept.

-DVDVDV-

Voldemort smiled as he gazed upon the boy from the other side of the glass. Despite the presence of his horcrux, it seemed the boy saw only a simple wall. Absently, he stroked the small phoenix chick, ignoring its screams and the black fire that harmlessly lapped his fingers. It seemed that, despite everything, his pet could be trusted.

He would let Severus know to begin the next phase. It was time to destroy the Order of the Phoenix once and for all.

A/N: Please review!


	117. Chapter 117

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 117**

 _WHY I BECAME A DEATH EATER_

 _EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH THE HEAD OF SLYTHERIN_

 _By Barnabus Cuff, Editor-in-Chief_

 _November 14, 1995_

 _London – It was late afternoon yesterday when Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and youngest recipient of the Rod of Paracelsus, approached me. He cut a dashing yet terrifying figure – tall and lean, dressed in black robes that billow about his person – and yet his most striking features are doubtless his glowing red eyes. Before I could even fully take in his appearance, he rolled up the left sleeve of his robes and displayed the Dark Mark, branded deeply into his flesh._

 _I admit that I instinctively flinched back, wondering if I would ever see my wife and children again. After promising not to harm them or_ The Daily Prophet _'s staff based on the content of this article – for which I am extremely grateful – he told me to take a seat. As difficult as it was for me to believe, he claimed that he simply wanted to tell his story. What follows is my interview with him, reproduced verbatim upon his insistence._

 _Barnabus Cuff (BC): Thank you for not killing me._

 _Severus Snape (SS): Do not be absurd. Dead men do not write news articles._

 _BC: (nervous chuckle) No, I suppose not. What can I do for you today, Master Snape? It's not every day that someone publically reveals himself to be a Death Eater._

 _SS: Indeed. And that is, in part, why I am here. Few today now realize that the Death Eater movement initially began as a peaceful political party. Our platform was simple – we sought to reintroduce aspects of our magical culture that had long been subsumed. We wished to bring some acceptance of the dark arts back to our country, and to reintegrate members of the larger magical community back into the fold._

 _BC: If you'll, er, please pardon me for saying so, but isn't this program dangerous? I mean, the dark arts are, by definition, harmful._

 _SS: Not necessarily, although that is a common misconception. Remember that Britain is practically unique among the major magical countries in its absolute ban on the dark arts. Durmstrang, unlike Hogwarts, actively teaches them, and yet there are fewer cases of harmful dark magic per capita in Eastern Europe than here._

 _Moreover, there are certain healing spells that are classified as dark, and yet they are ultimately beneficial. You are a father, are you not? If your children were dying, would you hesitate to slaughter a chicken – not a person, but a simple, non-magical chicken – if doing so would save them?_

 _BC: No, of course not._

 _SS: And yet that decision would put you directly opposed to our Ministry. The_ sanguis _ritual requires the sacrifice of a small animal, such a chicken, in order to stabilize a dying human. And yet this is banned by our government. Think of how many lives could be saved if they reconsidered._

 _(BC: Although I was not convinced at the time, further research following this interview confirmed the accuracy of Master Snape's description of the_ sanguis _ritual.)_

 _BC: And this is why you joined You-Know-Who? For humanitarian reasons?_

 _SS: In part, yes. I firmly believed then – and continue to believe now – that his political agenda will benefit Britain in the long term. However, my primary motivation in joining was knowledge that I was helping to fight against evil._

 _BC: Against evil?_

 _SS: Indeed. Albus Dumbledore, you may recall, pushed a measure through the Wizengamot decades ago that disenfranchised the Dark Lord. The head of a sizable political party, forcibly silenced. And consider that Dumbledore was at the time the head of our educational system, the head of our legislature, and the head of our international governing body. For many of us, it seemed a clear case of a dictator silencing his rivals._

 _Also, ask yourself – if Dumbledore is truly the champion of muggleborns as so many claim, why do so many muggleborn students fail to arrive at Hogwarts? It is a sad, oft-hidden truth that a few are killed or permanently incapacitated each year before they receive their Hogwarts acceptance letters. It is human nature to fear that which we do not understand, and we lose many muggleborns due to the lack of understanding of their families. Dumbledore was aware of these statistics, and yet he repeatedly blocked legislation that would identify these children earlier, allowing us to protect them._

 _Why would he do this? The answer is clear. His personal beliefs do not match the pleasant words he expresses in public. It is a little known fact that, in his youth, he was close friends – and possibly even lovers – with none other than Gellert Grindelwald. Together, they planned the subjugation of muggles and the conquest of Europe, until Dumbledore supposedly changed his mind. And yet Grindelwald implemented many of the very plans they discussed. Knowing them, why did Dumbledore not act sooner to stop his supposed rival, unless he secretly agreed with his aims?_

 _(BC: At this point, I confess that I was having difficulty believing Master Snape's outrageous claims, but he provided a packet of highly convincing evidence. I have since verified these with other sources, including Bathilda Bagshot, the noted magical historian. See pages 2-5 for reproductions of key documents.)_

 _SS (continued): It is tempting to believe that Dumbledore changed his mind as he grew older, and yet my own experiences as a student at Hogwarts indicate otherwise. I am a half-blood, something that I have never attempted to hide. I was also very poor in my youth. My muggle father lost his source of employment when I was eight years old, and he compensated by beating me and my mother. Although she was a witch, her health was poor, and she was too ill to defend either herself or me._

 _I was sorted into Slytherin, but my best friend was a muggleborn Gryffindor witch. There were four boys sorted into Gryffindor that year. Three of their number were purebloods, and the fourth was, like me, a half-blood. Their gang frequently targeted me, with my supposed crime simply that "he exists." In my first year alone, I spent over twenty days in the hospital wing due to their actions. Over the course of my seven years at Hogwarts, three of their so-called pranks directly threatened my life._

 _And what did Dumbledore do? He looked the other way. When I requested his protection over the summer months, citing my muggle father's violent tendencies and my inability – as an underage wizard – to defend myself, he refused. I spent the summer holidays each year being beaten by my father. Between my first and second year alone, he broke three of my ribs, my right arm, and my nose. What little money my family had, he wasted on alcohol. I had to beg meals from my muggleborn friend, who lived in the same town that I did._

 _I became a Death Eater because there should be no more children like me. I joined the Death Eaters because they promised to protect the magical world – the entire magical world – and because they were the only ones at the time who recognized the callous cruelty of Albus Dumbledore._

 _(BC: To my shock, Master Snape then shared his memories of the incidents described here. Viewing them in_ The Daily Prophet _pensieve, I can only say that – if anything – he understated the danger he was in, both at school and at home. Among other horrors, then-Headmaster Dumbledore threatened him with expulsion if he admitted how Sirius Black – yes, that Sirius Black – tricked the young Snape into crossing paths with a transformed werewolf. Worse, the future Death Eater was lured there by a threat to rape his muggleborn friend if he failed to appear. See pages 6-7 for a summary of these incidents.)_

 _BC: How can you be a Death Eater if you're an admitted half-blood? You-Know-Who is known to target those of supposedly inferior blood._

 _SS: The Dark Lord cares about magical blood – all magical blood. I am direct proof that a half-blood can rise as high as his Inner Circle. He offered a place in his ranks to my muggleborn friend on at least three separate occasions, recognizing her talents._

 _In fact, the Dark Lord is far more willing to offer positions to those of supposedly inferior blood than Dumbledore is. Ignoring the constantly rotating defense professors, I am the only non-pureblood that Dumbledore hired during his long tenure as headmaster. I assure you, the same is hardly the case among the Death Eaters._

 _BC: Would you mind providing some examples?_

 _SS: No. Risking my life and freedom in speaking publically to you is one thing. I will not risk the lives of my comrades._

 _BC: Very well. May I ask instead why you are taking this risk?_

 _SS: It is quite simple. We – the Death Eaters – do not wish to continue this pointless conflict. We seek a peaceful solution. The Ministry is no longer under Dumbledore's thumb. We hope that you will recognize that the combination of his bigotry and his mad desire to retain power led to the current crisis, and that you will agree to an end to this war. The Ministry is not our enemy. Dumbledore is. We simply seek the chance to have a say in our government, which Dumbledore long denied to us._

 _BC: But what of the recent assault on Diagon Alley?_

 _SS: I will not deny that we were involved in that attack. I would like to clarify, however, that we sought to focus our attention on Dumbledore's illegal vigilante organization, the Order of the Phoenix. The attack soon escalated out of our control, in part due to the unexpected presence of Grindelwald and an unknown number of his associates. There was collateral damage, and civilians were unfortunately involved. It was tragic, and such losses benefit none of us. It is one of the reasons I am here, speaking with you now._

 _Call a truce. Let there be pardons for actions on both sides of the war. I have seen friends killed by aurors, just as you doubtless have lost people killed by us. Let the Dark Lord have his say in our democracy. Let us speak up about our politics publically, in a debate hall, rather than meet in secret. Let there be no more families torn asunder. Let us be a nation of peace once again._

 _(BC: At this, Master Snape bowed and disapparated.)_

Minerva set down her copy of _The Daily Prophet_. She turned to look around the staff table, but could not find the one face she sought. Around her, staff and students alike looked pale and scared.

"This can't be true," Sprout whispered desperately. "Severus couldn't have –"

"Did you see the seventh page?" Flitwick squeaked.

Hooch nodded. "I'd consider joining You-Know-Who if that'd happened to me," she snarled. "Damn Dumbledore. Damn him to hell. And damn Severus, too."

As Minerva listened, she realized with a sense of mounting horror just what had happened.

 _We just lost the war._

A/N: Please review!


	118. Chapter 118

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 118**

In the afternoon following Snape's disastrous interview with _The Daily Prophet_ , the remains of the Order of the Phoenix and the Penitent Damned met in the sitting room of Albus Dumbledore's small cottage. Grimmauld Place was deemed no longer safe and had been abandoned. The Damned's headquarters was inaccessible to new visitors without Hellspawn's assistance, and the phoenix had disappeared along with Snape. _The traitor,_ Albus thought.

"But why would he do something like this?" Tonks asked.

Albus paused, and then said, "We are not certain. He experienced a shock when we last saw him. He has never been particularly stable, and I am concerned that this was simply one blow too many."

The door opened, and Minerva entered the too-crowded room. "My apologies for being late," she said, "but we have another concern. Mister Potter is missing. No one has seen him since dinner last night."

Gellert suddenly laughed, but there was little mirth to it. "And that explains Severus's actions. He is saving the boy."

"Explain," Shacklebolt demanded sharply.

"Severus recently learned that –"

"Gellert," Albus warned, interrupting.

Gellert glared at him _._ "As I was saying," he continued, "Severus recently learned that young Mister Potter's life in inextricably linked to that of Tom Riddle. For the latter to die, the former must likewise perish. Severus evidently cares more about saving the child than he does about avenging the mother." Albus frowned. _Now who should recall our recent chess game, Gellert? Your loyalty to Severus has let your tongue run away from you, threatening our larger purpose._

There was silence for a long minute, and then pandemonium broke out.

"You can't be –"

"That's absurd!"

"How could –"

With a loud _bang_ , Albus shot up red and gold sparks from his wand. "Silence, please," he said. "I recognize that this is concerning, but –" He broke off as Minerva's hand slapped him viciously across the cheek. He took a shocked, involuntary step back.

"You knew," she spat. "That poor boy trusts you. He loves you. You utter _bastard._ "

"Minerva –"

"Don't you _dare_ 'Minerva' me, Albus Dumbledore. I have had enough. I remember Tom Riddle as a student, just a year ahead of me. You never liked him much, did you? Was that prescience, or prejudice? I used to think that you saw through his charm somehow, that you could sense the monster lurking beneath the surface, but now I'm no longer sure. You destroyed Severus, and Merlin help me, but I did nothing to help when it mattered most. I will _not_ let you destroy another student. Never again, Albus, never again." Minerva turned to Gellert. "I despise everything that you stand for, Lord Grindelwald, and yet find you more agreeable company than the man I have followed for almost sixty years."

She turned back to Albus. "Hogwarts has already turned against you, and I have been fielding owls from the Ministry and concerned parents all day, asking me to confirm or deny Severus's story. To my shame, I have found no lies. The staff remember enough that corroborates Severus's interview. Poppy refused to confirm specifics, but she made it _abundantly_ clear that he was not exaggerating about his injuries as a student. There are enough muggleborn students that stories of less-than understanding muggle relatives have already spread though the school." She paused as she took a deep, steadying breath, and then demanded, "Did you always intend for Mister Potter to die? Or do you have some hidden plan to ensure his survival?"

Albus felt himself turn ashen as Minerva ranted. Tonks and Shacklebolt glared at him, although he expected no less from them. Yet even his longstanding friends and allies seemed shaken. Elphias Doge had been his childhood friend, and he stared at Albus as if seeing him for the first time. Daedalus Diggle had dropped his top hat in shock, tears glistening in his eyes.

"There is a chance that, if Voldemort were to cast the killing curse himself, young Harry might survive," Albus replied gravely.

Gellert snorted. "A chance? Albus, if a killing curse destroyed the soul, our task would have been far easier than you presented it thus far. No, there is a far greater likelihood that doing so would kill Mister Potter outright, leaving Riddle in full possession of his body. You would risk two of them active?"

Hesitantly, Tonks asked, "Would it actually be a bad thing if we called a truce?" She flushed as the others turned to her in surprise. "They're considering it at the Ministry. I mean, really considering it. One of the Bulgarians dug up a pamphlet from You-Know-Who's early days, and they're saying that their platform wasn't nearly as bad as you'd expect. Nothing about killing muggles or muggleborns or anything like that. It's more radical than I'd like, but they're not asking for us to implement it, are they? Just to have a say."

Albus sighed. "My dear, appeasement does not have a history of working as the appeasers intend," he said, eyes flickering to Gellert. "What will happen when they do ask that it be implemented?"

Tonks shrugged. "If they do it peacefully, so what? The Wizengamot can vote on it, and reject it or accept it. That's how a democracy works, isn't it?"

"But what of You-Know-Who's crimes?" Doge demanded angrily. "He killed my wife, my brother!"

"And he'll keep killing people if we keep this up!" Tonks shouted back. "I hate him. He's a monster. But I took an oath as an auror, to _save_ lives. To uphold the law. This will do that. This war tore my family apart. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius Black, Regulus Black, who I never even bloody met. I'm sick of it. We have a chance for peace. Why not take it?"

"When good people do nothing, that is how evil wins," Albus chided gently.

"And when good people do evil?" Minerva retorted. "How much have you sacrificed for your so-called 'Greater Good,' Albus? Was it worth it?"

 _No, it was worth it all too rarely,_ Albus thought, remembering his innocent little sister. _But Voldemort is simply too dangerous. He will not stop. He murdered poor Myrtle, despite her never harming him. He was only sixteen when he killed her, and he has not stopped killing since._ "Do you truly think Harry would refuse, if he knew that Voldemort cannot be stopped otherwise?" he asked softly.

"Most responsible adults try to _prevent_ children from committing suicide!" Minerva snapped.

"Why must stopping Riddle require killing him?" Gellert asked. "You stopped me without killing me, unless the last fifty years have been a particularly potent hallucination."

"Do you all truly believe that appeasement is the answer? That a man as violent and sadistic as Voldemort would not simply ask for more and more?" Albus asked. "Given all of the time he shall have, would you condemn the next generation, and the next?" Across from him, Doge nodded fervently in agreement, but several of the others frowned.

Gellert snorted. "You have truly grown blind in the years since my incarceration, Albus. There is not a person here who wishes for Riddle to gain significant power. But a truce? That would allow us the time we need to find the other . . . items . . . without bloodshed. We can dispose of Riddle himself later." He shrugged. "As for Mister Potter, I admit to minimal interest in his survival one way or the other. Frankly, I am perfectly willing to kill one innocent to save thousands, but 'the Greater Good' _was_ my motto, after all."

"I fear we are making a grave mistake," Albus said, sighing. "But very well."

-DVDVDV-

 _DUMBLEDORE'S SECRET TREATY WITH GRINDELWALD_

 _GRINGOTTS GOBLINS CONFIRM AUTHENTICITY_

 _November 16, 1995_

 _London – An anonymous source delivered a magical treaty between Albus Dumbledore and his former enemy, Gellert Grindelwald, to the auror office late yesterday. The mysterious dark wizard known only as "Mordred" was also a signatory, as was ex-auror Alastor Moody, currently recovering in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

 _"_ _The contract requires all parties to assist in the defeat of You-Know-Who," Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour said in a statement. "It was executed in the summer, and Gringotts has testified to its authenticity."_

 _Sources inside the Ministry claim that there is a second set of documents, known as the Johann Wolfgang accounts, that list Dumbledore's violations of the contract. According to these sources, there are over eighty separate violations._

 _Why would Albus Dumbledore agree to assist Lord Grindelwald? Are the allegations that he assisted in the Nurmengard breakout correct? And if Dumbledore truly is seeking to stop You-Know-Who, why would he violate the terms of a contract designed to achieve exactly that objective? Could he be the true evil in this war, as Death Eater Severus Snape claims?_

By the end of the day, after immense pressure from the public, Minister Cornelius Fudge agreed to an armistice. The Ministry would negotiate with Lord Voldemort.

A/N: Please review!


	119. Chapter 119

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 119**

Three days. He had already lost three days. It would take a week for the Rod of Paracelsus horcrux to fully assimilate with his embodied counterpart. Three days were already spent, assuming Severus was accurately tracking the passage of time. It was difficult to be certain, seeing the world through the phoenix's eyes, especially when the phoenix in question felt only pain.

Severus wondered what his moronic counterpart was doing. He had been present during a few meetings between him and the Dark Lord, and knew that his other self had managed a public relations coup the likes of which Lucius Malfoy could only have dreamt. Severus himself could scarcely believe that it had been so successful. _Since when have my powers of persuasion appealed to the larger public?_

But then, Voldemort's horcrux was doubtless still whispering in his counterpart's mind. The Dark Lord had always been charismatic. If he had not lost his sanity . . . .

Severus did not want to think about that. He wondered how long it would be before the mutilation of his own soul destroyed what little sanity he himself still possessed. _Will I even recognize when I go mad?_

He had tried occluding against Hellspawn, hoping that hiding his alien presence might reduce the agony the phoenix felt. Unfortunately, it had made no discernable difference. His appeals to logic had gone unheeded and likely unnoticed. His apologies had fared no better. He had even tried to possess Hellspawn, but had thus far met with no success.

 _"_ _Hellspawn,"_ he thought at the phoenix, _"will you bond with me again? Perhaps, if we were to merge, we might be able to act. And if we can act, we can stop me before I do something even more inexcusable than that which I have already wrought."_

There was no reaction from the phoenix, but Severus had not truly expected one. With a mental sigh, he tried again.

-DVDVDV-

Amelia Bones, flanked by Aurors Rufus Scrimgeour and Azula Gerov, inclined her head a marginal fraction in welcome as Voldemort apparated into the Ministry atrium, Severus Snape at his side. Scrimgeour should still be on only light duty following his recent discharge from Saint Mungo's, but Fudge had insisted on the presence of the head auror, particularly after the man's recent heroism in the Diagon Alley massacre. For his part, Scrimgeour had simply shrugged at Amelia but had not argued. Perhaps he, like Amelia herself, privately doubted that their presence would pose more than a minor hindrance should You-Know-Who decide to attack rather than negotiate.

She had argued vehemently with Cornelius Fudge against agreeing to an armistice, but he – and the vast majority of the Wizengamot – had ignored her objections. The terrified wizarding population blindly clutched at the idea of peace, ignoring the obvious signs that this was a trap. Dumbledore's fall from grace over the summer provided the perfect backdrop for people to give credence to the _Daily Prophet_ interview. It had painted the Death Eaters in a sympathetic light, and now Amelia feared that the whole wizarding world would suffer for it.

A camera flash went off. Voldemort turned his reptilian head and stared at the _Prophet_ 's photographer with bright red eyes. The pudgy man trembled, and Amelia felt herself tense. From the corner of her eye, she could see Scrimgeour and Gerov's fingers tighten around their wand hilts. And yet Voldemort merely smiled a cold, cruel smile. He turned back to Amelia and inclined his head. It was almost mocking in its strict courtesy. To his side, Snape bowed low, his own red eyes nearly as bright as his master's.

Amelia remembered hearing about the man from her niece's letters home. Susan had been frightened of the stern potions master, who was famous for flaying students with his vicious tongue. And yet an unofficial investigation had found that student injuries in potions class had actually decreased under his tenure. He had never been known to harm a student physically, for all that he was an unrepentant Death Eater.

In the end, though, Amelia had dedicated herself to the law. Against her better judgement she escorted the monster who had ordered the murders of her brother and sister-in-law, who had ordered her assassination only a few days ago, to the Ministry's most ornate conference rom. As they walked, her fingers never left the hilt of her wand.

-DVDVDV-

Harry stared numbly at the wall. He had been in the safe house for what seemed like days. He still could not believe that Sirius and Remus were dead, that Bill and Percy Weasley were dead. _Who else has died since I came here? Would Voldemort truly be weakened if I died, too? Is it right for me to live if I could save everyone else by dying?_

-DVDVDV-

Elphias Doge had been the last Order member on guard duty at the Department of Mysteries. Invisible, he had been wordlessly stunned when Eddington had led Fudge and Potter inside. In the commotion that had followed You-Know-Who's attack, no one had remembered that he still had Moody's spare invisibility cloak. The grizzled ex-auror was still in Saint Mungo's, and was in no position to demand its return.

Concealed under the cloak, Doge silently made his way to the conference room where the foolish, misguided Ministry was even now making a deal with the devil incarnate. Good men did not allow evil to act unhindered.

The doors were guarded by stern-faced aurors. Doge did not that doubt that they were warded as well. Even so, he knew what he had to do. The monster that had killed his wife and brother was inside, and he would be damned if he just sat back and did nothing.

-DVDVDV-

Severus saw the flash of green light shoot towards his master nearly too late. Without the time to conjure a physical shield to intercept it, he did the only thing he could. He leapt from his chair and placed himself between the killing curse and the Lord to whom he had pledged his eternal loyalty.

The green light hit him.

Everyone said that the killing curse was painless. They were wrong.

It was pain beyond pain, worse than the strongest _crucio_ he had ever experienced.

And Severus Snape's corpse began its fall to the floor.

A/N:

There seems to be an issue with the review system, as users' reviews are not showing up directly on the site. Fortunately, I am still seeing the reviews in my automatic email alerts, so your reviews are not being lost. This has happened a couple of times before, and the reviews always re-appear once fixes the issue.

Please review!


	120. Chapter 120

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 120**

Life was very different as a disembodied spirit.

The killing curse had severed his connection to the Rod of Paracelsus horcrux, even as it forced his wraith-like spirit out of his own body. Fortunately, it did not seem to have affected his corpse beyond driving his mind from it. Severus had expected it to have destroyed his body, much as the rebounded killing curse had obliterated the Dark Lord's original body fourteen years ago. _Perhaps that was a side effect of Lily's protection, or else a result of his body having far less than half of his soul._

Severus could feel the tether of his horcrux tying him to life, even as his corpse began its fall to the conference room floor. It hurt beyond anything he had ever experienced, and yet his thinking did not suffer. His mind – insubstantial though it was – felt clear for the first time in decades, freed from both the blanketing depression of Enobarbus Syndrome and the myriad side effects of his mind-altering potions.

Separated from the modified Prince's Kiss by the loss of his body, Severus saw how the potion had affected his mind. It had not merely cured his Enobarbus Syndrome – which was both welcome and appeared to be permanent, judging by the continued lack of symptoms now – but it had infused him with slavish devotion to an unworthy master. He was no mere tool to be wielded. A life of slavery was no life at all. He belonged only to himself.

He no longer loved Lily Evans. If he had a face, he would have frowned in mild confusion as he realized that he was no longer even capable of love. He wondered if that was a permanent effect of drinking the horcrux-infused potion, or if the creation of his own horcrux had caused it. In either case, it did not displease him. Love was a weakness he could ill afford.

Severus had betrayed the man who had saved his life, had lied to him time and time again. In making a horcrux, he had betrayed Regulus, who had sacrificed himself in his attempt to destroy the locket. In returning to Voldemort, he had betrayed Lucius, who would remain voluntarily trapped in his hidden refuge until Voldemort died. He had betrayed Minerva, who would die before she bowed to the Dark Lord. He had betrayed everyone, Hellspawn most of all.

He would not think about Hellspawn.

Traitors always deserved the same fate. Death. Damnation.

What he had done to Hellspawn was unconscionable.

He must not think about Hellspawn.

He was a monster.

 _Sometimes, you need a monster to kill a monster._

He would honor his promises to his dead. He had already fulfilled his oaths to Regulus Black, dedicating his research disproving Agostini's Law to his deceased friend, to Evan Rosier, condemning Moody to a fate worse than death, and to his mother, finding a cure for Enobarbus Syndrome. _Even if the side effects are worse than the disease._ He would avenge Lily Evans, just as he had sworn to himself all those years ago. He might no longer love her, but she had still been his friend, and he had made a promise. He would see Voldemort die. And then he would pay for his sins.

His corpse hit the ground. Severus's spirit floated above it.

Around him, aurors and Ministry flunkies screamed. Voldemort hissed in fury, whipping out his yew and phoenix feather wand. Before anyone else could react, he had bound Severus's killer in thick conjured ropes. "Treachery!" he hissed. "You ask usss here to speak of peace, and yet seek to assassinate usss?"

"N-n-no," stammered Fudge, trembling violently. "He's not – not one of ours!"

 _Should I feign continued loyalty?_ Severus wondered. _Yes,_ he decided. _I will need his expertise to learn how to regain a physical body._ "Elphias Doge, my Lord," Severus's spirit said. "A member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes, yes, exactly!" Fudge cried. "Nothing to do with us!"

Voldemort glanced contemptuously at the Minister of Magic. Severus noted that he was hardly the only one to do so. Amelia Bones and Azula Gerov made no attempt to hide their derision. Rufus Scrimgeour masked his expression, but his body language betrayed his scorn.

"I think that perhaps ve should halt the negotiations for today," Gerov suggested. "Vhile ve deal vith this miscreant."

 **"It will earn more goodwill with the public, my Lord,"** Severus said in parseltongue. Voldemort nodded even as the others in the room flinched as they heard his supposed-ghost hiss.

"Very well," Voldemort agreed. "We shall return tomorrow. I trust that there shall be no further disturbencesss when we return."

Fudge gulped at the obvious threat. "N-no. Of course not."

 **"Float into your corpse, and you can disapparate with it,"** Voldemort ordered. Severus complied. Voldemort seized the body, and they disapparated back to the large ballroom.

In his mind, the Rod began to explain how to rejoin his physical body. _Will I again be under its influence should I be restored to it?_ Severus was not certain. The loyalty-inducing effects of the Prince's Kiss might be permanent, or they might have dissipated with his body's physical death. In either case, the killing curse had at least disrupted the rising bond between him and the Rod, which would have to initiate the process of fusing anew. _Not that I will allow it to do so again. Never again. But i_ _s regaining corporeal form worth the risk of succumbing to the Prince's Kiss once more?_

In the end, Severus decided that there was too little he could do as a bodiless spirit. Even if he could escape Voldemort's presence long enough to search the manor for Hellspawn, he had no guarantee that he would be able to rejoin the other half of his soul. Recalling the Dark Lord's reduced powers when inhabiting Quirrell's body, he doubted that he would be able to offer any significant threat by possessing another. Thus, he followed the instructions step by step, careful to appear loyal to the Dark Lord and yet watchful for any sign that he might again fall under the Rod's thrall. Hours later, as he completed the final step, he felt a strange sensation, akin to an electric shock, flow across his entire body. He shivered, and his body moved with him. To his intense relief, although some residual effects of the contaminated Prince's Kiss still lingered, the overwhelming loyalty appeared far muted upon his return to his body. Death had dissipated the worst of it. Occluding as strongly as he could, Severus was able to resist its weakened call to remain in his master's ranks.

As he did so, he felt the tendrils of the Rod of Paracelsus reaching out to his mind. The Rod cried out in anger as it failed to push through his occlumency shields. Voldemort, unfortunately, heard. He turned, shocked, and raised his yew wand at Severus. Before the Dark Lord could act, Severus disapparated.

The ballroom vanished. Severus reappeared in the small, dingy kitchen of Spinner's End.

 _"_ _Traitor!"_ the Rod of Paracelsus screamed at him. Severus ignored it. Using a handkerchief, he extracted the Rod from his pocket, careful not to touch it directly. He threw it to the other side of the room.

 _"_ _I vouched for you!"_ the Rod shouted. _"It is still not too late. Lord Voldemort may still forgive you, even now. We can still become one."_

Severus removed his wand from its sheath, and then he whispered.

Fiendfyre poured out.

The Rod of Paracelsus howled as it melted. Looking at it, Severus felt nothing beyond a vague sense of regret. The Rod could have been such a useful tool. It was a pity that Voldemort had twisted it.

He shrugged. He needed to speak with Gellert and the Order, but doubted that they were foolish enough to remain at Grimmauld Place given recent events.

" _Expecto patronum,_ " he said, remembering the day he received his Hogwarts letter.

Nothing happened.

He frowned. It was to be expected, he supposed. He was no longer merely a dark wizard. He had crossed forbidden lines. A fractured soul could not summon a patronus.

-DVDVDV-

"Tonks," Severus said as soon as the pink-haired auror opened the door. It seemed that his guess was correct that, given the unavailability of Grimmauld Place and the Weasleys' recent losses, at least some Order members would be at Dumbledore's cottage. "Might I come in?" Without waiting for a response, he entered and made his way towards the voices coming from the next room."

"But you're dead!" she exclaimed, her pink hair turning an ashen white upon seeing him.

Severus ignored her. In the small sitting room were Gellert, Shacklebolt, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. "- misguided, but efforts to rescue Doge should -" Dumbledore said, but he broke off as he saw Severus enter. Both he and Shacklebolt pointed their wands at him.

"Severus?" Gellert asked. "It appears that rumors of your death have been greatly exaggerated."

Severus shrugged. "That is unimportant. The Dark Lord has Potter, and is aware of everything of relevance that I knew as of this morning. He is currently wearing Slytherin's locket, and he has the Diadem of Ravenclaw hidden at Hogwarts near a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The Rod of Paracelsus has been destroyed. I suggest that you complete the exchange for the Cup and destroy it immediately, as he has already begun looking into ways to recover it from Gringotts without turning the goblins against him."

For a moment, they all stared at him. Not caring, Severus turned to Fawkes, who was perched upon the arm of Dumbledore's chair. "I can likely recover Potter and the locket, provided I leave immediately. Your assistance would greatly facilitate matters."

The phoenix trilled, and Severus felt a stab of pain shoot through him. He winced reflexively.

"You seem . . . different, Severus. Is that truly you?" Dumbledore asked.

"In the flesh, if not entirely in the spirit," Severus drawled. He glared at Fawkes impatiently. "Well?"

"Forgive me for asking, but would you mind proving it?" Gellert asked.

"You called Hellspawn 'Loki' before we met in person."

"What happened, my friend? Where is Hellspawn?" Gellert asked.

"The Dark Lord has him," Severus snapped. "I intend to rectify that, but I shall need to know if Fawkes will provide assistance." He smiled mockingly. "It is not as if you ever use him for anything worthwhile, anyway."

"Severus, my boy, I have some concerns about your recent -" Dumbledore began.

"I do not care," Severus snapped, interrupting. "We have a very small window of opportunity in which to act. The longer you delay, the longer the Dark Lord shall have to recover from his temper sufficiently enough to think to remove himself and his horcruxes from his current headquarters."

Dumbledore winced at the mentioned of "horcruxes." Fawkes trilled again, and he nodded. "Do what you feel is necessary, my friend," he said.

The phoenix flew to Severus's shoulder, and together they disappeared in a flash of flame.

-DVDVDV-

There was sudden movement to his right. Dully, Harry turned to face it. He blinked, surprised out of his stupor. Snape stood in the room, dressed in black Death Eater robes but without the faceless silver mask. His eyes glowed a brilliant, eerie red, just as they had in his office at Hogwarts and at Grimmauld Place following the battle at the Ministry. A phoenix sat on his shoulder. Harry frowned. Unless he was badly mistaken, it looked more like Fawkes than Hellspawn.

The phoenix trilled, and then glared beadily at Snape, who had begun raising his wand but then had flinched slightly at the sound. The phoenix launched himself from Snape's shoulder and flew to Harry. A moment later, he felt the warmth of flames. He blinked. When he reopened his eyes, he found himself in a small sitting room. Dumbledore smiled down at him. The phoenix trilled again, and then vanished.

-DVDVDV-

Fawkes returned, and Severus glared coldly at him. They would need to deal with the Potter brat eventually, and it was better to do so sooner rather than later now that the Dark Lord was aware of his significance. But then, Fawkes had always seemed more hesitant to act than Hellspawn ever did. _Like wizard, like phoenix._

And speaking of phoenixes, he needed to find Hellspawn. He did not doubt that the Dark Lord was venting his fury at Severus's most recent defection on his horcrux. _Perhaps he, at least, can find a means to slay a creature immune to the killing curse, basilisk venom, and fiendfyre._

"When we come across the Dark Lord, you must recover the locket from around his neck. Flee immediately, leaving me behind if you must," he ordered Fawkes.

The phoenix trilled in reply, and Severus tried to suppress another flinch.

The halls of the Dark Lord's manor were deserted as Severus and Fawkes passed. Severus tried to feel for his horcrux, but he could not sense the connection. _At least that suggests that the Dark Lord cannot do so either, at least so long as he remains embodied. He might not know the moment his remained horcruxes are destroyed._

Long minutes passed as they searched. At last, Severus heard the sound of a phoenix screaming. _Hellspawn._ Disillusioned, he silently crept forward.

" _Avada kedavra!_ " a high-pitched voice cried over the phoenix's screams. _And the Dark Lord as well,_ Severus thought.

The Dark Lord stood in his study, which was no longer neat and orderly. Books and papers lay everywhere, and half of the furniture in the room looked to have been destroyed in his fury. A tiny phoenix chick surrounded by black flames stood on the floor, apparently oblivious to the destruction around him. Severus caught the glint of metal on the back of Voldemort's pale, scale-encrusted neck. _The locket._

" _Sectumsempra_ ," Severus whispered as softly as he could. Although he could cast it silently, he suspected that he would need the extra power the verbalization afforded him. The dark cutting spell hit the clasp on the locket. It was not enough to break it through the locket's protections, but it was powerful enough to force the clasp open and slice a faint, almost imperceptible gash into Voldemort's neck. Severus was unsurprised to see that no further damage had been done. The Dark Lord had made it clear that he had undergone rituals to safeguard his physical person against injury. He had considered trying to conjure fiendfyre again, but feared that Voldemort would merely quench it again as he had done in the Ministry.

Fawkes flew forward just as Voldemort turned. A hissed killing curse hit Fawkes, who burst into flame even as his talons clasped the falling locket. The phoenix vanished, the horcrux firmly in his grip.

"No!" Voldemort shouted. " _Crucio!_ "

Severus tried to dodge the torture curse as he lunged towards the still-screaming Hellspawn. It hit him even as he felt the phoenix shuddering through his fingers. Severus noted that the power of the _cruciatus_ seemed milder than usual. _Due to the state of my soul? Or the improved health of my body?_ Even so, the agony remained intense, and Severus focused all of his will into concentrating on disapparating. Splinching himself now could be disastrous.

He felt the familiar sensation of being pushed through a too-narrow tube, and disapparated.

A/N:

Voldemort said in GoF that he invented the ritual that restored his body. I am assuming that previous horcrux-makers must have used something else, and that regaining a body would be easier if you still had the original corpse to work with (which Voldemort did not in GoF). Voldemort, having read all of the horcrux-related literature available, would presumably know what to do.

Please review!


	121. Chapter 121

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 121**

To Harry's intense embarrassment, as soon as he appeared in the room, McGonagall enveloped him in a crushing embrace. He had only rarely been hugged before, and then only by a small handful of people. Certainly never by his stern, strict Head of House. At last, she released him.

"Forgive me, Mister Potter, but we were very concerned when you disappeared," she said. Her eyes seemed unusually watery. Behind her, Dumbledore chuckled.

Harry glanced around the unfamiliar room. He could see Grindelwald sitting cross-legged on a comfortable-looking leather armchair. Other than him, only McGonagall and Dumbledore were in the room. "Where am I?" he asked.

"My home," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling merrily. Harry blinked. It was strange, the idea that Dumbledore had a home. "We're using it temporarily as Order Headquarters."

"Oh. Is anyone else here?"

"Not at the moment. Tonks and Kingsley left, but they should return shortly. But now, my boy, I do have some questions for you. Could you tell us the circumstances of your disappearance?"

Harry frowned, considering. He remembered what Snape had said about some in the Order seeking his death. _But Snape was the one who came back to get me. And McGonagall was so relieved to see me. Besides, if Dumbledore or Grindelwald want me dead, there's not much I could do to stop them, is there?_ After a pause, he recounted what Snape had told him and described the room the portkey had brought him to. As he spoke, the others in the room frowned, but they did not interrupt.

At last, just as he was finishing his recounting of events, a tiny phoenix chick appeared, a necklace held tightly in his talons.

"Albus, it that –" McGonagall began.

Fawkes trilled, and Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed, I –"

With a loud _crack_ , Snape appeared on the floor of the room. Clutched tightly despite his shaking limbs was a tiny, screaming phoenix chick surrounded by sinister black flames. After a moment, Snape, breathing heavily, seemed to gather into himself. He rose from the soft carpet.

"Hellspawn?" Grindelwald asked, sounding aghast. "What has happened to you?"

The phoenix continued to scream. It was a terrible, awful sound, the worst sound Harry had ever heard, worse than Amos Diggory's sobs of grief, or Molly Weasley's endless litany of "my babies" as she held her husband in the Burrow.

Grindelwald turned to Snape, his eyes hard and cold, and Harry could see the man who had led armies across Europe in that steely gaze. "Severus, how could you have done such a thing, create such an _abomination_? Hellspawn was your friend!"

"I was not entirely myself at the time, but I offer no excuse." Snape laughed, and Harry thought he sounded almost mad. "I doubt I shall ever be entirely myself again."

"Is this related to the –" Dumbledore paused. "To the artifact?"

"To the Rod of Paracelsus horcrux, you mean?" Snape asked, and both Dumbledore and Grindelwald shot brief glances at Harry. Snape laughed again. "It no longer matters if he knows. As I told you earlier, the Dark Lord knows everything that I did. He is aware that we are aware. He is aware of Potter's true significance. He is aware that I am Mordred."

"How?" Dumbledore whispered, his face ashen.

"I told him. As I said, I was not entirely myself at the time. Again, I offer no excuse. I should never had dropped my occlumency shields so close to the Rod. I was rather expecting to die, but death seems highly unlikely now." He sighed. "My actions after that were . . . unfortunate and ill-considered." He paused. "I believe I understand how the Dark Lord lost his sanity. And this is with only the one."

Harry had no idea what Snape was talking about. The others, though, looked at him as if they had never seen him before.

"Severus, please explain what happened," Grindelwald said slowly and calmly, as if speaking to a skittish and highly dangerous animal. "In order, if you don't mind."

"No, I think not. If the Dark Lord has taught me anything – and he has taught me so very many things – it is that there are no benefits to villainous monologues, amusing as they are. Far better simply to do what is necessary." Snape paused. "Have you taken steps to secure the Cup and the Diadem?" he asked.

Dumbledore frowned, and for a moment Harry thought that he would refuse to answer Snape's question. At last, though, Dumbledore nodded. "Tonks has gone to Gringotts with Kingsley, disguised of course. They should be returning soon."

"And the Diadem?" Snape turned to McGonagall. "Why are you not searching the school even now?"

She flushed. "You're right. I –"

He sneered. "Falling back into old habits? I suggest you leave now, Headmistress McGonagall. You will not wish to be here. And the sooner you find and destroy it, the sooner the Dark Lord will perish."

"Perhaps Minerva should remain here while we . . . discuss . . . your recent changes," Dumbledore said softly.

Snape smiled coldly. "You would delay in defeating the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore? And merely to ask me some personal questions? Alas, I find myself unsurprised."

McGonagall rose unsteadily from her seat next to Harry. "I'll go. Severus is right." She nodded stiffly. "I'll take Mister Potter back to Hogwarts with me."

"No, I think not," Snape said coolly. Before anyone could react, a jolt of red light flew from his wand and hit McGonagall firmly in the chest. She crumpled to the floor. Harry leapt to his feet, pointing his own wand at Snape, who merely sneered. "She will not be harmed," he said, sounding cruelly amused. "But she would only interfere with what must be done. Unlike the rest of us," he gestured at himself, Grindelwald, and Dumbledore, "she has morals." He turned to Harry. "Mister Potter, if killing the Dark Lord required your death, would you choose to die?"

"What? But you said . . . ." Harry's voice trailed off as he realized that neither Dumbledore nor Grindelwald had moved to attack Snape, despite his stunning of McGonagall. _Do they believe I need to die? Was that faction of the Order that Snape mentioned actually right? What changed his mind since he gave me that portkey?_

"What would you choose, Mister Potter? Note that this is _not_ a hypothetical question," Snape said. "The Dark Lord shall remain immortal for so long as you remain alive."

For a moment, it seemed to Harry that Dumbledore was about to protest, but then Grindelwald tapped him on the arm and murmured, "Chess," almost too softly for Harry to hear. Dumbledore's eyes glistened as if with unshed tears, but he nodded and fell still. _Snape is going to kill me, and neither of them is going to stop it. They agree with him. They think I need to die in order to kill Voldemort._

"I'd die," Harry said firmly, staring at Dumbledore as he spoke rather than Snape. "If that's what's required to kill Voldemort, I'd die."

Snape nodded. "As I expected." He pointed his wand at Harry and whispered something too softly for him to hear. A tendril of fire erupted from his wand.

Harry screamed.

And then there was nothing.

A/N: Please review!


	122. Chapter 122

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 122**

Severus wondered if Lily Evans would have wept, as Dumbledore did now, if she had witnessed Severus's demise. He doubted it. She would certainly not mourn his passing now that he had killed her son.

Severus could not bring himself to care. He would keep the promise he had made. He would avenge her. Voldemort would die. That the Dark Lord's demise required the death of her son mattered little. Keeping the promise mattered. The woman's own wishes did not. Not anymore.

Severus directed the fiendfyre from Potter's ashes to where Slytherin's locket lay on the floor beside a gently weeping Fawkes. It let out a high-pitched, piercing howl as it melted. That done, Severus focused his will and dismissed the fiendfyre. Fawkes let out a faint cry, and then flew to rest on Dumbledore's shoulder.

Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at him. He snorted. "And only now you think to threaten me? Do not bother," he sneered. "As you well know, I survived the killing curse earlier today. It was a mere petty annoyance. I will see the Dark Lord dead, as I promised, and that shall be the last you see of me."

"Why?" Dumbledore rasped. "This is not truly you, Severus. The man who loved Lily Evans would _never_ have harmed Harry." _Appealing to my better nature? I have none. That Severus Snape is dead. And you know as well as I that Potter needed to die. You were simply too soft-hearted to do what was needed. You did not interfere just now, despite ample opportunity. This is merely a gesture your conscience demands, too late to matter._

"I am no longer capable of that emotion. I am a man – or what is left of a man – with half a soul. I am a monster. But you _need_ a monster now.

"Potter was a horcrux. The Dark Lord cannot die so long as his horcruxes remain intact. You _knew_ this, and yet you allowed him to remain alive? Potter previously survived basilisk venom without damage to the horcrux. What would you have tried instead? A killing curse had no guarantee of success. I did what was necessary, without sentiment to blind me. Fiendfyre destroys horcruxes. I, for one, do not wish to see the Dark Lord return again and again because you are too weak to do what is necessary."

"I had hoped, if Voldemort cast the killing curse himself, that Harry might survive," Dumbledore snapped. Grindelwald snorted derisively.

 _The killing curse did free me from the Rod's influence,_ Severus thought, but then he shook his head. _No, we had not yet fully merged. The_ _horcrux in Potter had nearly fifteen years to cement a foothold._ "Hoped? You would risk all of wizarding Britain – all of the world – on a mere _hope_? The Dark Lord knows that Potter was his horcrux! He would have protected him, not cursed him! And even if he were still ignorant, what if he had instead killed Potter, leaving the horcrux in full possession of the body? Even if there was only one chance in a thousand that the Dark Lord's horcrux would remain intact, you would be risking countless lives in order to safeguard one."

"That is much as I told him," Gellert said.

"Everyone must die at some point, Dumbledore, even your precious Potter. At least he died with his soul intact, having done his part to end this war." Severus chuckled darkly. "Even your faithful phoenix did not object to what I did." He gestured to Fawkes, who wept on Dumbledore's shoulder. The phoenix merely let out a painful trill, but did not move. "I will return to Hogwarts to destroy Ravenclaw's Diadem. I expect you to destroy the Cup before tomorrow morning dawns, Albus Dumbledore. You will send me a message once that is complete. Do you understand?"

Dumbledore frowned, but nodded. "Very well."

"Good." Severus reached down and picked up the still-screaming Hellspawn. With a last cold look at the two elderly wizards, he disapparated.

-DVDVDV-

Rather than return immediately to Hogwarts, Severus apparated to the storage crate that had been his safe house. The Dark Lord might know about Spinner's End, and he did not trust Tonks or Shacklebolt not to interfere at the Cymru Luxury Inn. He had no time to find another location, and merely hoped that Gellert would not interfere here.

He set Hellspawn gently down on the small cot. "I apologize," he said softly. "I should not have done such a thing."

Hellspawn did not reply. He continued to scream.

"I do not know how to free you from the agony I have inflicted upon you. The sting of your refusal to tell me the truth about Potter is as nothing compared to the vengeance I have brought down upon you. I confess that I am surprised that holding my horcrux has not killed you outright. Perhaps that is due to the remnants of our former bond.

"I would rejoin my soul, if only I knew how. But I chose my victim too well. I must feel true remorse for the murder, not for creating the horcrux. I cannot bring myself to regret Black's death, nor even my own role in it. He deserved to die, and the manner of his death – savaged by a beast not in control of its own actions – fit his crimes."

And still Hellspawn screamed.

" _Legilimens,_ " Severus whispered. Unlike before, he did not seek the mind of his fractured soul, but instead that of the phoenix. He felt Hellspawn's grief and sense of abject failure. He felt Hellspawn struggle against all phoenix instincts to fight against the dark, as Hellspawn tried not to destroy the half of Severus's soul that was trapped within him. He felt the phoenix's hope that Severus could somehow still be saved. He felt the phoenix's continued, irrational love for him.

Severus cried out as the phoenix's love burned him. He withdrew from Hellspawn's mind.

He gazed down at the screaming phoenix for a long minute, and then disapparated.

-DVDVDV-

Severus stood across from the tapestry depicting Barnabus the Barmy's attempts to teach trolls the ballet. From the flash of memory he had felt from the Rod of Paracelsus, he knew that the final horcrux was hidden somewhere nearby. Try as he might, though, he could detect no hidden passageways, no secret rooms. He began to pace back and forth, back and forth, thinking.

At the third pass, a door appeared. _Is it truly so simple? The Dark Lord believed that it was difficult to find._ Severus smiled grimly. He opened the door.

Inside, he found a room filled with piles and piles of miscellaneous items. Some were obviously in poor condition, while others looked new. There appeared to be no order or logic to what was contained within. Books, an old broomstick, ancient moth-eaten robes, potions vials, and many other odds and ends filled the room. He walked over to one corner of the room and began to search.

Two hours later, a shining silver phoenix patronus appeared in the room. "The Cup has been destroyed," it said, speaking with Dumbledore's voice. It vanished.

Finally, after another hour of searching, Severus found the Diadem. _"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,"_ the inscription said. He felt a powerful urge to put it on, to gain its wisdom for himself. He ignored the compulsion. It was not nearly as powerful as the Rod of Paracelsus's pull had ben. _Likely because the Rod's call was tailored to me specifically,_ Severus mused. He summoned fiendfyre.

The final horcrux burned.

Severus wondered if the Dark Lord was still in his manor. _Could he be so arrogant as to assume I could not find him there again?_ Severus considered. _He believed that this secret room was beyond detection from any but himself, yet it only required me to pace in front of it thrice. And yet he knew I could find him at his manor once, and he is not so far gone that he would not take precautions against a second invasion. No, I cannot seek him there._

But tomorrow, the Dark Lord would return to the Ministry for continued negotiations. And there, at last, he would die.

-DVDVDV-

Severus considered polyjuicing as a known Ministry employee in order to gain easy access to the second day of peace negotiations, but he was forced to reject that approach. A disguise would not hide his red eyes.

A disillusionment would.

Severus positioned himself in the Ministry at five o'clock in the morning and waited. Hours passed, and he watched, bored, as aurors and journalists began arriving. He saw Bones, Scrimgeour, and Gerov arrange themselves in formation again. At last, at the stroke of nine, Voldemort apparated into the Ministry, accompanied by two masked Death Eaters whom Severus did not immediately recognize from their profiles.

As before, Voldemort inclined his head slightly in a gesture of cold courtesy. As he did so, Severus shouted, " _Avada kedavra!_ "

The disillusionment broke as the jet of green light shot from his wand. The crowd screamed as they saw him. He was supposed to be dead, after all. Some of those present had even been there as Doge's killing curse hit him. Aurors trained their wands on him, and few cast stunners in his direction. He raised a quick shield, absorbing the spells. Bones shouted at them to stand down.

Voldemort collapsed to the floor of the Ministry atrium as the killing curse hit him. Severus felt the Dark Mark on his left arm flare, and then it, too, died.

Severus smiled grimly as he held out his wand, tip pointed at himself. He tossed it gently to the floor in front of him. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, surrender myself to the custody of the Ministry of Magic. I freely confess to the murders of – among others – Auror Gawain Robards, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, and Lord Voldemort, born Tom Riddle."

A/N: Please review!


	123. Chapter 123

"Normal speech"

 _Thoughts_

 _"Mental speech"_

 **"Non-English speech"**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers own Harry Potter.

 **A/N:** Thank you all for reading! This is the final chapter.

 **Epilogue**

 _TRIAL OF SEVERUS SNAPE BEGINS TODAY_

 _MONSTER, MADMAN, OR MARTYR?_

 _December 1, 1995_

Tonks kept her eyes trained on the prisoner as her partner steered the small boat from Azkaban. No one expected the jury to convict him, despite the overwhelming evidence and the man's own confession in front of a room full of aurors and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement herself. _Mitigating circumstances._ The man who had killed Voldemort could be forgiven nearly anything, including the death of the Boy-Who-Lived.

 _How do you stop a man whom the killing curse cannot kill? How do you punish a man left unaffected by the dementors' presence?_ She knew the answer the Ministry would choose. _Nothing. They will do nothing._ Fudge was even blustering about giving the red-eyed monster a medal.

It made her sick.

Mad-Eye Moody had never recovered from the cursed phoenix song. He would remain a permanent resident of the Janus Thickey ward at Saint Mungo's for the rest of his life.

Gawain Robards had been a good man, a good auror. His body had been horribly mutilated when the aurors had found it. And he died just to keep Snape's cover for a little longer. The bastard.

And then making someone like Lucius Malfoy out as a hero . . . . They had barely even used the information he had provided. And yet there he went, right back to controlling his puppet ministry, as if he had never left. "I stand by my comments to _The Daily Prophet_ ," Snape had said at his trial. "In the end, the Dark Lord needed to be stopped, but I did not mislead the _Prophet_ regarding my reasons for joining his cause." Some at the Ministry were actually considering pardoning the other Death Eaters as a result, no doubt influenced by Malfoy's gold and a palpable fear of earning Snape's enmity.

Harry Potter had been just a boy. She remembered the argument at Dumbledore's house. She had heard the evidence at the trial. They all had. He had been a horcrux, and therefore could not live if Voldemort were to die. That did not make it any better.

Worst of all, Tonks suspected that Snape _deserved_ his pardon and his medal. Killing Voldemort was worth all of that and more.

She didn't have to like it, though.

-DVDVDV-

 _SEVERUS SNAPE ACQUITTED!_

 _MINSTER OF MAGIC PRESENTS ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS_

 _December 4, 1995_

Severus accepted his medal with outward calm, even as a part of him felt gratified by the terrified fawning of the Ministry officials. They shuddered whenever his red eyes fell upon them.

The rest of him remembered the chill of the dementors as they returned to Azkaban following Voldemort's defeat. It had barely affected him, nothing like the cruel grip he recalled from the year that dementors had guarded Hogwarts. That must be another side effect of his fractured soul.

The cowering sheep should never have freed him. Fortunately for them, he still had a promise to his dead to fulfill.

As he turned to leave, he said, just loud enough for them to hear, "You should have convicted me."

-DVDVDV-

 _THE FURTHER CRIMES OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _DETAILS EMERGE FROM WIZENGAMOT HEARINGS_

 _December 15, 1995_

When the aurors came for Albus Dumbledore, he went with them quietly. _This is a man who has lived too long,_ Scrimgeour thought. _His legacy is in ashes. Even if he is acquitted, his reputation will never recover. He is a broken man._

On Dumbledore's shoulder, Fawkes trilled sadly.

-DVDVDV-

 _MINERVA MCGONAGALL CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMISTRESS_

 _INVESTIGATION INTO DUMBLEDORE'S HOGWARTS COVER-UPS CONTINUES_

 _December 18, 1995_

Minerva felt no satisfaction whatsoever in her new post. She felt haunted by her complicity in the death of a student, a student from her own House, no less. Yes, Snape had stunned her before he had killed Harry Potter, but her actions had come far too late to matter. She had known that Snape was Mordred and said nothing. She had done nothing as he slipped further and further into the darkness.

 _"_ _You are a good man, Severus Snape. And I will not let anyone forget it. Not even you."_ Those words seemed so very naïve now. _He did what we could not. He accepted culpability for his crimes, and we refused to punish him for it._

She sighed. _It was not really him,_ she reminded herself _. The Severus Snape who was my friend was not the man who killed Harry Potter. I should remember him as he was, not what he has become._

Minerva glanced down at her list of ideas to present to the Board of Governors. She added one more item to the bottom. _Proposed course: Magical Ethics._

-DVDVDV-

 _ALBUS DUMBLEDORE SENTENCED TO HOUSE ARREST_

 _AGE, DECADES OF SERVICE SAVE HIM FROM AZKABAN_

 _December 23, 1995_

"At least I shall have you, and my books," Albus said with a sigh once the Ministry officials had left.

"I think not," Gellert replied, taking off Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. He smiled coldly. "I spent fifty years in Nurmengard, alone, while you enjoyed the outside world. I think that it is time that our positions were reversed. But do not despair, Albus. You visited me over Christmas, as I recall. Perhaps I shall follow your example."

Albus flinched, remembering Christmas, 1950. It had been the last time he had visited Gellert in prison. Forty-five years. He had stayed away for forty-five years.

With a casual wave of the Elder Wand and barely a glance back, Gellert left. Albus doubted he would ever see him again.

-DVDVDV-

 _CONTROVERSIAL WAR HERO PUBLISHES THREE BOOKS_

 _CHARMS, POTIONS, DARK ARTS_

 _January 1, 1996_

Viktor Krum held Hermione Granger as she stared nonplussed at the "top sellers" window display at the rebuilt Flourish and Blotts bookshop. She could not bring herself to go inside.

"Do you vant me to get you a copy?" he asked her.

"No," she said, turning around. "Some things are better off unknown."

There was nothing that Severus Snape could have done, no spell or potion he could have invented, that could forgive him for murdering Harry Potter.

-DVDVDV-

Three of the four killers of Lily Evans had been punished. Voldemort and Pettigrew were dead. Dumbledore was disgraced.

That only left Severus himself.

Severus carried a small, screaming phoenix chick as he flew over the icy waters towards Azkaban. He could not free Hellspawn through fiendfyre, or basilisk venom, or the killing curse. Fortunately, his short stint in the wizarding prison had reminded him of an alternative.

He landed in front of a dementor. "Kiss him," he said. He held the tiny chick up to the robed and hooded abomination, unfazed at it lowered its hood to reveal empty eye sockets and a terrible, gaping maw.

They were all abominations here.

Severus watched as the dementor sucked half of his soul from Hellspawn. A twisted, ghost-like wraith of himself emerged from the phoenix's beak, and then was swallowed by the dementor. Severus felt nothing. _So, Voldemort would never have felt the destruction of his horcruxes._

 _"_ _Severus!"_ Hellspawn cried in his mind. _"You're back!"_ Severus turned red eyes to the phoenix, who wept. _"Oh. No, you're not. But you can get better. I know you can. Let's –"_

"Kiss me," Severus ordered the dementor. He knelt, and closed his eyes. There was the touch of cold, dead hands. There was a flash of flame. There was a bird weeping. There was the rush of breath from his lungs. There was screaming. There was nothing.

 _Yet from those flames_

 _No light, but rather darkness visible_

 _Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,_

 _Regions of sorrow, doleful shades where peace_

 _And rest can never dwell, hope never comes_

 _That comes to all; but torture without end_

 _Still urges._

\- John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

\- The End –


End file.
